A Hikaru no Go Sekkushiaru Roman

By Sailor Mac

Somewhere around midnight, Hikaru finally finished his latest game.

It hadn't been one for the record books, that was for sure. He'd actually been very bored, having to keep his brakes on like that. But then again, you weren't allowed to go full-throttle when you were playing a "just for fun" game against a local politician's wife.

"Oh, my," said his opponent, a tiny woman in a neon-blue suit with salt-and-pepper hair. She studied the board as if she really knew what she was looking at - but it was clear from her unfocused gaze that she might as well have been looking at a game of marbles. "Did . . . did I win?"

"No, Shidogawa-san, you lost," Hikaru said. "By six moku." *And if I'd been allowed to *play,* he thought, *it would have been triple that, even with a nine-stone handicap.*

"I . . . I don't see how it happened."

Hikaru took a deep breath and started going into the umpteenth simplified discussion of the evening. He usually liked working with amateur players . . . after all, he'd once been one himself, and if he could help someone discover and develop a hidden talent . . . it would give him a sense of supreme satisfaction.

Like he was doing the same thing for someone else that Sai had done for him.

But then, there were people like this woman who really had no interest in the game, no respect for it. They weren't there to learn, they were just curiosity-seekers. They just wanted to be able to tell their friends they'd played Go, thinking it would make they sound smart and cultured.

He could just imagine how Sai would have reacted to people who treated the game like a status symbol. Probably the way he was reacting now, with barely reigned-in impatience.

*Funny how I'm getting like Touya,* he thought, *getting mad at people with no respect for Go* . . .

But he knew all too well that he had once been one of those people. He remembered Touya yelling at him on their second meeting . . .

And it was that knowledge that kept him working with these people. Maybe, just maybe, he could help one of these people see the true depth and beauty of the game. (Although it seemed highly unlikely with this particular woman).

Besides, the more people he worked with, the more it kept the memories of the *first* time he'd participated in one of these at bay. It had been Sai's last night on Earth.

"So . . . you see, if you had connected these stones earlier, you would have made a fortress, and then I wouldn't have been able to get in here . . ."

"But . . . I put a stone *here*, didn't I?" she said, pointing a skinny, fake-nail-tipped finger at the board.

"Shidogawa-san . . . connecting stones diagonally doesn't *count* in Go."

"It doesn't?"

Hikaru began to wonder if she knew the difference between Go and Tic-Tac-Toe.

Fortunately, at that moment, the woman seemed to decide it wasn't even worth attempting to understand anymore. She stood up, bowed, and said, "It was a pleasure playing with you, Shuku-san."

"Shindou," Hikaru corrected, standing up and returning the bow. When she walked away, he sank back into the chair, resisting the urge to breathe a sigh of relief.

A glance around him told him that the other pros at the tables surrounding him were all busy. A couple over to his left, Ochi was playing shidou-gou with a junior high student. Behind him, Isumi was playing three games at once. Waya was a couple of tables over from there, explaining a game result to a portly, balding man who seemed to be nodding off.

*They've given the lower dans the graveyard shift,* Hikaru thought. He'd been at this since seven that evening, and was expected to keep going until seven in the morning. He hoped that the guys from Morishita's study group made good on their promise to come up after midnight and relieve some of the pros for a short break.

He yawned and stretched, and looked around at the rest of the room. And his eyes fell on a table to his right, where a perfectly composed figure, dressed neatly in jacket and tie, was giving his usual detailed game explanation in his deceptively soft voice.

*I can't look at Akira too long, or . . . someone might notice*, he thought, looking away.

He wondered if his friends had noticed anything different about him since their relationship had turned the corner from friends to lovers. *They certainly don't act like they do*, he thought, *but . . . you never know . . .*

Most of the time, he was confident that nothing showed, that they would never be discovered. But he also had his moments of paranoia.

Especially when it came to his mother. He knew she was usually slow on the uptake, but . . . if she discovered the wrong thing . . .

Which is why he always put his tube of lubricant in his backpack when he left the house.

A voice saying "Hey!" above him made him give a start. He looked up . . . and saw a very familiar head of perpetually messy hair. "Wa . . . wa . . . Waya!"

Waya frowned. "What's wrong with you, Shindou? Was your last customer all that scary?"

Hikaru quickly busied himself with returning the Go stones that remained on the board to their baskets. "No . . . no, not really . . ." He hoped he wasn't blushing, because the real reason he'd been jumpy was he was afraid Waya had caught him staring at Akira.

Waya shook his head. Shindou was impossible to figure out sometimes. He'd be normal, and then, all of a sudden, he'd say or do something that was downright *odd* . . "Look, the people from the study group are here to relieve us for awhile. Want to go to the Igo Trip Café with Isumi and me? We need to get out of here for awhile, and get some caffeine . . ."

"No, I'm fine," Hikaru said. "I want to get in a couple more games."

"You sure? You didn't look fine just now."

"Yes. I'll take a break later if I need to."

Waya shrugged. "Hey, your loss. If you want to catch up later . . . the café is right on the corner, across from the drugstore."

"Okay, then."

Waya walked away toward the doorway, where Isumi was already waiting. "He's not coming," he said.

Isumi frowned a bit. "He's not? Did he say why?"

"Said he wanted to get a couple more games in, but he was looking kinda jumpy," Waya said. The two headed for the elevator and Waya hit the down button, then leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his head. "I don't know what's with him sometimes."

"He's pushing himself very hard lately," Isumi said, a thoughtful expression on his face. "When he's not playing, or at your study group . . . he's at the Go salon with Touya. Maybe he thinks he's making up for lost time after missing all those games?"

"Eh, that was a long time ago," Waya said, pushing himself off the wall as the elevator arrived with a *ping*. "He's just still obsessed with topping Touya, that's all."

As they started their descent, Waya couldn't help wondering why the hell Touya, who didn't seem to have the time of day for the other young pros -- or any other people his age, for that matter -- would come down off his high horse for *Shindou*.

They didn't just meet up in the Go salon . . . he knew they were playing at Hikaru's house. He'd called there once, and when Shindou had answered the phone, he'd heard Touya's voice in the background.

*Maybe he's interested in him*, he thought, *because he suspects the same thing I've suspected for a long time . . . that Shindou was the Sai on the Internet. But even that doesn't make sense. When Sai was kicking everyone's ass, Shindou was playing like crap. He wasn't really doing that to throw everybody off . . . was he?*

He realized that nothing about *any of this* had made sense from the day Shindou had first walked into the insei class and said he was Touya Akira's rival. *I don't get it*, he thought. *I just don't. And I wonder if I ever will . . .*

* * *

Hikaru wandered over to Akira's table. He was all too glad to yield his own for awhile, once he knew Waya and Isumi had left. The real reason he'd turned them down is he'd wanted to make sure Akira got a break.

He knew his lover would push himself all night if he didn't. . . and he probably wouldn't have agreed to go out with Hikaru and his friends. He intended to work on Akira's lack of social skills with people his own age . . . once he taught him to relax.

He saw Akira bow to the customer and start to collect the stones. *Now*, he thought, *before someone else gets a chance to snatch him up . . .*

"Hi," he said, sitting down opposite Akira. "There's people from my study group here to relieve us . . . want to take a break?"

Akira returned the last of the stones to the Go ke. "Why?" he asked "I'm fine."

"You need to get away from time to time . . ."

*Oh, no, it's the "relax" thing again,* Akira thought. Hikaru had been on something of a crusade lately to get him to slow down. And he remembered all too well the opening salvo in that campaign . . . he'd ended up tied to a bed. Not that he'd exactly minded anything that happened while he was tied to said bed . . .

"I'm perfectly relaxed, Shindou! Now, just let me start another game . . ."

*Oh, no,* Hikaru thought. *I'm not letting him get away with this.* "Look . . . can't you just spare a few minutes? To walk around the halls with me and get a soda?"

Akira put the Go ke he was holding back on the Goban with a decisive *thump*. "Why are you so concerned about me slowing down, anyway? You keep saying and saying I need to relax, but . . . you don't realize that I don't *need* to!"

Hikaru clenched his fists. He wanted to grab his lover and shake him and shout, "I'm concerned because I love you, dammit, and I don't want anything to happen to you! I don't want you to have a bad heart like your father! I can't stand the idea of losing you before your time . . ."

Instead, he shouted, "Fine! I'll go myself!" and turned on his heel, storming out of the room.

Akira watched him go, sighing. Shindou could have a short fuse sometimes . . . maybe he was the one who needed to relax . . .

He was going to motion another customer over when he caught something out of the corner of his eye, leaning up against the wall.

Shindou's backpack.

He knew for a fact that his lover kept his soda machine change in there, in one of the little zipper pockets at the top -- he'd told Akira he was sick of hearing his mother say over and over, "I washed your pants with COINS IN THEM again!"

*Just like him*, Akira thought. *He was in such a hurry to storm off for his soda that he forgot the thing he'd need to *get* the soda.*

He rose from his table. He'd find one of those people from Hikaru's study group, ask him to take over, and catch up to Shindou. *Just for a few minutes*, he thought. Just long enough to give him this back to him.*

* * *

Hikaru wandered through the halls. He wasn't particularly going in the direction of the elevator, which would take him down to the soda machines. He was just burning off energy and emotion.

*Why does he have to be so high-strung all the time?* he thought. *He still doesn't know when to slow down. And he's stubborn. Just as stubborn as I am . . .*

He turned a corner, wandering a hallway lined with game rooms, each one of which seemed to hold its own special memory of his long road to the pros. There was one where he'd played as an insei . . . another where he'd played the first game against Touya that was totally *him*, not Sai . . . and the tournament rooms were further down the corridor . . .

When he heard the faint footsteps behind him, he didn't think anything of it at first . . . probably somebody else who had to escape from that room for five minutes . . . until he heard a very familiar voice shout, "Shindou!"

Hikaru turned around. There was Akira, a look of mild disapproval on his face, holding his backpack in his hand. "You forgot this," he said, handing it over.

Hikaru took it, giving him a sly smile. "Thought you weren't going to take a break."

"I'd still be in there if you hadn't left your backpack behind!"

"Well, now that you're out, you might as well stay out with me for a few minutes."

Akira wanted to say, "Oh, no I'm not! I'm going back in there!" But . . . now that he was out of that room, he realized that it *had* started to feel a bit stuffy and cramped in there, and it *was* nice to be out of it for just a few minutes . . .

"Fine," he said. "Just for a few minutes, then we're going back."

They continued to walk down the corridor, lit by only a few security night lights, which cast eerie shadows over the walls. "It looks so different at night," Akira said, "when there's no people in it. Almost like a different place . . ."

Hikaru remembered the first time he'd come there after hours . . . when he was searching for Sai the day after he'd disappeared. His throat tightened as he remembered the record room, the old Shuusaku kifus that had revealed Sai's true genius and led to his decision to quit playing for awhile.

He had to distract himself from that memory. So he asked Akira, "Did you come here a lot with your father when you were a kid?"

Akira paused by one of the tournament rooms, shaking his head no, his hair fanning out slightly, framing his face in a way Hikaru could only think of as sensual.

"My father kept me away from his professional Go life, for the most part. I met and studied with other pros at the house, and I played him all the time, but . . . " He began to fiddle with his left cuff, the never-ending habit that held a strange fascination, and sometimes irritation, for Hikaru . . . "I never saw the inside of any of the tournament rooms until I played in them myself."

"None of them?" Hikaru said. *Geez,* he thought, *I would have thought he'd grown up with the Go Institute as his second home!*

"None," Akira said. They walked a little further, and came to the Room of Profound Darkness, the highest of the high tournament rooms, where both of them had played their Beginner Dan games.

Neither could resist peeking in. This room was something . . . special. Sai had remarked to Hikaru that there was a unique feeling in the air there, as if the intensity of thousands of games could be felt at once.

"It seems darker and quieter than any other room here," Akira said.

Hikaru took a few steps into the room. He could barely make out the Goban in the dim light from the hall . . . and the two low chairs on either side of it, with wide, cushioned bottoms for the players to kneel on and back supports to lean against . . . and the low table off to the side for the members of the press corps . . .

There were no other furnishings, nothing to provide any kind of a distraction. It was a room made for the deepest of deep contemplation. It seemed to enclose its occupants, shut the rest of the world out . . .

A wicked idea was rising in the back of Hikaru's mind. He was thinking of the last time he'd tried to get Akira to relax and slow down for a few minutes, and just how he'd accomplished it. And something worth doing once was worth doing again . . .

He began to wonder how Akira would react to it. *No, he thought, I can't do that . . . can I? But . . . who's going to know? Everyone is either in the festival room or going down the elevators to the lobby . . .*

He turned toward Akira, and said, slowly, "And . . . it's a good place for privacy, isn't it? Nobody from the Go festival will come wandering here, at this time of night . . ."

Akira instantly turned a frown on him that verged on his "glare of death" game face. *Is he serious?* he thought. *Could I have heard that right?* "Shindou . . you're not possibly thinking what I. . ."

But he didn't finish the sentence, because a pair of arms were flung about his shoulders, and a hot mouth was suddenly pressing against his, throwing him off-guard, making his knees sag. He started to kiss back, to caress the boy's lips with his own, and was reaching up to tenderly stroke his face when . . .

He realized where they were, and what they were doing. He abruptly pulled away from his lover, still trembling a bit with emotion.

"Are you INSANE? HERE?"

Hikaru just gave him a sly smile that held the promise of something hot and delicious to come, and said in a husky whisper, "Yes . . . here." He reached out for his lover, running the palms of his hands over his shoulders, then down his chest. "Admit it . . . haven't you thought about it? What it would be like to make love here, in this room . . ."

He wanted to push the boy away, storm out of that room and back to the festival . . . but something was keeping him from doing it. And that something was the knowledge that Hikaru was right.

Akira had fantasized about it. More than a few times. It was the kind of fantasy you didn't even admit to yourself afterwards . . . but while he was having them, they were always hot and exciting.

The idea of making love in the very temple of Go . . . coupled with the added danger of getting caught . . . there was just a deliciously illicit air about the whole thing. But to actually go through with it . . .

Akira took a deep breath, steadied himself, and said, "We don't have . . . what we need for that."

Hikaru pointed to the backpack, which had fallen at Akira's feet during the kiss. "In there . . . I carry it with me."

"You do WHAT?" *Good gods,* Akira thought, *does he plan to seduce me anytime, anywhere . . .*

"So my mother doesn't find it. Go ahead, take a look . . ."

Akira knelt, and undid the backpack zipper. He found several sheets of kifu paper, a bottled water, a few packages of Yan Yan, a roll of mints . . .

Then, he noticed another zipper set within the wall of the pack, set within a fold of cloth. He pulled on it, found a small compartment, and put his hand in. Sure enough, there was their tube of lubricant.

He was about to close the bag up when his eyes fell on the other items again. Mints . . . and Yan Yan . . .

He remembered the day of the ice cream incident, when Hikaru had tied him up and teased him with food. Here was an opportunity for payback of sorts.

And suddenly, Touya Akira was getting wicked ideas of his own.

He stood up, turned around slowly . . .

Then, he grabbed Hikaru in his arms and crushed his mouth against the other boy's, a hard, possessive kiss that had one message, and one only: "You're mine."

Hikaru was startled, his mouth opening with a gasp of as much surprise as passion as Akira backed him against the wall and imprisoned him with one arm on each side. . . and then, he let out a small moan as he felt another tongue stroke his, slowly and sensually.

Hikaru's hands moved up Akira's back, clutching the fabric of his suit jacket tightly as they broke apart for just a second, both panting, staring into each other's eyes . . . and Akira's eyes had that smoldering, hooded look of passion, there was no doubt about it. Hikaru felt his heart starting to race the way it did when a game was in yose, and he knew his victory was close at hand.

He leaned back in toward Akira, begging without words for another kiss, and Akira replied with a slow, gentle brush of his lips . . barely a touch, just enough sensation to make Hikaru shiver with desire. Another kiss then, deeper and more intense, as Akira's hands quickly worked on Hikaru's tie, flinging it across the room.

He began unfastening shirt buttons as his tongue moved out of Hikaru's mouth and began moving down over his chin . . . slow, hot and wet, making Hikaru lean his head back and let out a long, shuddering moan. "Akira . . ." he gasped as his shirt and jacket were pushed away to land on the floor, and he felt his lover's hands start to move up and down over his naked chest, stroking in big, slow circles.

His tongue was echoing the same motions on Hikaru's neck, moving downward slowly, oh, so maddeningly slowly. Each wet swirl made Hikaru's blood feel hotter and hotter, and he arched his whole body toward Akira, wanting his hands everywhere, wanting his mouth to find his most sensitive places and suck and lick until he was ready to explode.

Akira pulled back for a moment, stripping off his own tie, jacket and shirt with rapid movements, panting, gazing at his lover . . . Hikaru leaning against the wall, eyes closed, moist lips parted, breath coming heavily, a light sheen of sweat breaking out all over his body.

"Beautiful," Akira said in a whisper that was close to a growl. "So very beautiful . . "

He suddenly fell to his knees, his fingers lightly skimming his ribs as his mouth fastened on a nipple, drawing the little bud in and sucking hard. Hikaru let out a cry, tangling his fingers in Akira's hair . . . gods, he was so good at this!

Akira pulled his head back, then began licking at the little bud with long, slow strokes . . . it was so hard, so delicious, he loved the texture of this under his tongue. He kissed the nipple almost reverently, then began to blow across it, the stream of air on Hikaru's wet, sensitive skin bringing about a fresh wave of sensation.

Akira moved to the other nipple, paying it due homage . . . kissing, licking, then scraping his teeth ever-so-slightly, making Hikaru let out a groan . . . which brought about an answering thrill through Akira's own body. He reached down and cupped a hand over the boy's erection, stroking it lightly through the cloth. Hikaru responded with another long, low, throaty sound of passion.

His lover raised his head. "That's it," he whispered. "Moan for me, just like that. I love how it sounds . . ." He caressed Hikaru some more, and got more noises in response. "So sexy," Akira murmured. "So beautiful . . . gods, the sight of you makes me so hot . . ."

He moved down lower and nuzzled Hikaru's erection, rubbing his cheek against the bulge the way one might cuddle a kitten. Now Hikaru was letting out full-blown cries, thrusting his hips forward, mutely begging Akira to rid him of the pants that were starting to feel like a prison, to lick him, suck him, stroke him, do *anything* to him . . .

Instead, Akira reached into the backpack. Hikaru shuddered in anticipation, thinking he was going to pull out the tube of lubricant . . .

But what emerged was a roll of mints.

Hikaru stood there just blinking and confused for a moment. *Mints?* he thought. *Why the hell mints? Why now?*

"I'll show you a new kind of Go," Akira said. He unwrapped the mints, leaned over and kissed Hikaru's stomach . . .

And then Hikaru felt his tongue again, hot and wet and sliding across his skin in slow circles again, bigger than last time . . . and this was not random, it was a definite and familiar shape . . .

He lifted his head, took the mints and peeled the paper so several dropped into his hand. He pressed them firmly onto the wet flesh, so they stuck, forming a pattern.

"Kosumi," Hikaru said aloud.

"Hmm, you're catching on." And Akira leaned over and ran his tongue with feather-light touches around the perimeter of the pattern, making Hikaru shudder and jump a bit. He licked along the same path again, pressing harder with his tongue this time, sweeping it rapidly over Hikaru's heated flesh.

"Want to play another hand?" Akira whispered. And he began the licking again, Hikaru letting out a whimper as the wet circles were traced . . . oh, he wanted Akira's mouth lower so, so much, but at the same time, he didn't want this to end!

Akira placed the mints into the pattern of a small fortress with an eye in the middle this time. One he was done, he leaned over and nipped the bare skin in the center of the eye, just hard enough to make Hikaru jump and yelp.

He licked the center. . . then moved his tongue to the outside and traced the outline again, slowly, slowly, as he had done to the first . . . His hand reached down and cupped Hikaru's erection again, and the boy whimpered.

"I have to get these off now," Akira said. And he leaned over and wrapped his lips around a mint in the first pattern, sucking hard, continuing to suck on the firm flesh after the candy had been pulled into his mouth. Hikaru cried out, loudly. And continued crying out as Akira moved his mouth over to remove the second in the same way.

His hands moved around Hikaru's body to find and squeeze his bottom as he sucked off another candy . . and another . . and another. Hikaru moved into the touch, wishing again his pants were gone, wanting Akira to lube up a finger and push it between his cheeks, to stroke him from inside, make him ready . . .

Once Akira had removed the last candy, he stood up, took Hikaru's face gently in his hands and kissed him, hard, thrusting his tongue into Hikaru's mouth . . . and the candies with it. Hikaru suddenly found himself tasting the coolness of mint and the hot spiciness of *Akira*, and it rushed right to his head, like a big gulp of a fine wine.

He pushed some of the mints back into Akira's mouth . . . and Akira returned them . . . and Hikaru pushed them back yet again.

Finally, both boys swallowed what they had, and Akira kissed across Hikaru's cheek, the coolness of the lingering mint contrasting with the heat of his lips.

"You're so delicious," Akira murmured against Hikaru's ear, breathing hotly across the tiny hole.

"Akira," Hikaru gasped. "Please . . . I want . . ."

"Do you want . . . this?" Akira reached down, unbuttoning Hikaru's pants, pushing down the zipper.

Hikaru gasped. "Yes!"

"And . . . what do you want me to do after that?" The pants were pushed down, rapidly.

"Something! Just do something! I need to feel you . . ."

Akira pulled away just long enough to strip away his own remaining clothing, giving Hikaru an opportunity to fully rid himself of socks, shoes, pants, underwear. And then, Akira bent over and picked up something from the ground.

"I'll do something, all right," Akira said.

He knelt in front of Hikaru, and the blond braced himself, expecting to feel Akira's tongue stroking along his length . . .

Instead, he felt something smooth, and soft, and it was slithering around his erection like . . . a snake?

Hikaru's eyes flew open with a gasp, and he looked down . . . to see Akira winding his silk tie around his manhood. It was all the way up and down his shaft, loosely wrapped so he'd just have the sensation of the cloth without pain.

Akira leaned over and kissed the tip, which wasn't covered by the fabric. He opened his lips and slid it in, just a bit, and sucked a few times.

"Aaahh! Akira!" Hikaru writhed against the wall, his blond bangs falling into his glazed, half-closed eyes, his lips moist and parted as his breath came through them heavily.

Akira took his mouth away. "Does this feel good, Hikaru?"


"Then this will feel better." And he pulled on the end of the tie, and suddenly the silky soft material was sliding *all around* Hikaru, and hot tingles were shooting from his erection all over his body. He bit his lip, thinking he was going to explode, no, he didn't want to, not yet . . .

Akira paused, leaned over, and began to lick at the tip again, running his tongue in a spiral pattern from the slit at the top, down over the widening curve, then back up again. He pulled the tie again as he was still licking, until the last of the fabric had slid away from Hikaru, and Hikaru nearly screamed Akira's name.

The tie was dropped on the floor, and Akira reached into the backpack again. *Now*, Hikaru thought. *It's going to happen now. He's going to get out the lube, and I'll feel his finger pushing into me in a moment, and then he'll bend me over and take me .. .*

But Akira pulled out something else. A cylindrical red container, which he peeled the top off of.

Akira peered into the contents. On one side were a bunch of biscuit sticks, on the other, a puddle of sticky chocolate dipping sauce. Normally, Yan Yan wasn't something he found appealing . . . it was too messy and too sweet for him.

But then, most people didn't eat Yan Yan like this.

He took the other two containers of Yan Yan out, opened them all up, and prepared to put his plan into action . . .

Hikaru felt a jolt as something started moving over his erection . . . it was sticky, not quite wet, and there was something very solid there as well . . .

Akira was painting him with Yan Yan, using the biscuit stick as a "brush." He moved from the tip down to the base in a long, slow line . . . then dipped the stick again, and began painting bottom to top.

"Oooohhh!" Hikaru cried, and then, Akira's mouth was enveloping him, the heat and wetness seeming to penetrate him to his very soul.

Akira moaned in pleasure . . . Hikaru always felt so good in his mouth, he loved doing this, loved the intimacy of it, the fact that he could bring such immense pleasure with what was basically a simple act.

He pushed down, down until he had Hikaru as deep as he could comfortably take him in. He sucked in a few short, hard draws, then began moving him out a bit . . . then sucked a few more times .. . then slid out more . . .

And the taste. The sweetness of chocolate, the saltiness of him . . . Luscious. Intoxicating.

Suddenly, Akira knew what all the fuss over chocolate was about.

When he slid Hikaru all the way out of his mouth, he took up the biscuit stick and, this time, put little dots of chocolate up and down the shaft, looking almost like black Go stones. He leaned over, his tongue beginning to sweep from one to the other, zigzagging back and forth across Hikaru in a sort of "connect the dots" pattern. Hikaru let out a sound that was something like a growl.

"Hmm," Akira said, picking up another package of Yan Yan and moving up Hikaru's body. "I like this. I'll have more."

He took a stick again, and dabbed chocolate onto his right nipple . . . then his left . . . and then began to lick one, then flick his tongue quickly across Hikaru's chest to the other, then flick back . . .

Hikaru panted, his whole body trembling . . . oh, he needed to come! What Akira was doing now was so, so sexy, but everything in him was pleading for release.

Akira rose to his feet and stuck his finger right in a container of Yan Yan this time. He put some of the chocolate on his own lips, then leaned over to Hikaru.

Hikaru got the message right away. His tongue snaked out of his mouth to brush Akira's lips, lightly, lapping at the chocolate bit by bit. He pushed it further more, into his lips, finding Akira's own tongue, and they both tasted chocolate as they kissed deep and hot and wet

"Come over there with me," Akira whispered when they broke apart.

Hikaru looked over . . . there was no possible "there" but the player's seats.

"Are we going to . . ."

"Yes." Akira reached into the backpack, and, at long last, removed the lube. "Bend over, and lean against the back . . ."

Hikaru walked over to the seat. *This is the same one I was in for my Beginner Dan game, against Akira's father,* he thought. *Well, that wasn't really my game. Sai played it . . . and it was the one game he didn't play well . . .*

But thoughts of that game, and of Sai, were banished as soon as he felt Akira's hands on his bottom, squeezing the cheeks, first together, then just the right, then the left . . . He rubbed up and down with his palms, rapidly, and Hikaru leaned his head on his crossed arms, whimpering, wanting Akira to just do it, prepare him, then fill him . . .

He felt his bottom cheeks spread, and then, a finger, coated with cold and slick gel, starting to push at his entrance, gently massaging, coaxing him to let it in. Hikaru concentrated on relaxing, so Akira could slide in easily.

The first entrance brought a bit of pain, making Hikaru grit his teeth, not wanting to cry out. *It'll get better, it'll get better*, he told himself . . . and sure enough, the pain faded as Akira began to move in and out, carefully, and a warm pleasure started to take its place, spreading through his body like great pools of honey.

The finger was removed, and then pushed back in, along with a second. The pain returned, sharper and more intense this time, and Hikaru gripped the back of the chair . . . but when it turned to pleasure, it was so intense that Hikaru felt his whole body sag, knowing that it wouldn't take much to bring him to completion.

He was expecting to feel Akira spread him wider next, in preparation for being taken . . . but, instead, Akira was moving around the seat, and sitting in it, leaning on the backrest, his legs in front of him. . . he had to place them on either side of the goban, since it was so close to the seats.

Hikaru knew what to do. He walked to the front of the chair and leaned over, grabbing the tube and kissing Akira hotly. He squeezed some of the lubricant out in his hand and reached for his lover's erection, grasping it gently but firmly, stroking it from base to tip, coating it with the sticky gel.

"Mmmm," Akira purred. "Do that again . . .."

And Hikaru did, stroking Akira tenderly, watching his lover's eyes close, his head toss side to side a bit, his gorgeous dark hair fanning around him. *Mine*, he thought. *This fabulous creature is all mine.*

He climbed onto the seat, kneeling astride Akira and facing away from him. He reached behind him, taking his lover's manhood in his hand again, and helping guide it to his entrance. Slowly, he moved downward . . . there was a flash of burning pain, and he took a deep breath, telling himself again that it was only temporary, that it would get better quickly . . .

Akira moaned deeply as Hikaru enveloped him. Oh, he was tight, so tight . . . and hot . . . One hand snaked around the boy's body and reached for his chest, finding a nipple and stroking it with his thumb . . . back and forth, back and forth, then in circles . . .

Hikaru cried out at the flash of new sensation, then gave a loud gasp as Akira took the hardened bud in his thumb and forefinger, giving a squeeze that was just this side of pain, sending a hot, dark thrill through him. He began to move his hips, pushing Akira deeper into him, and the pain was fading, and the pleasure was rushing in . . .

He moved up, feeling Akira's hardness slide out of him, leaving him feeling empty . . . and then down, rapidly, and he thought he was going to burst from feeling so filled, so very filled, and hot, and . . . and, oh, GODS, Akira was leaning over and nibbling his neck now, his teeth scraping at him lightly, followed by a hot lash of his tongue, and then sucking, HARD sucking . . .

Hikaru threw his head back and moaned from the very bottom of his soul, a deep, husky sound that brought about an answering groan from his lover. Akira's fingers still worked on the nipple, ticking, squeezing, stroking, as Hikaru started to pump faster and faster, in and out, in and out, seeming to tighten around Akira more and more with every stroke.

Hikaru writhed, pushing and pushing against his erection, the sensations screaming through his bloodstream and colliding at the very core of his being . . . the tingling from his nipples, the wild nibbling and sucking at his neck, and oh, what was coming from his passage . . . He knew he was going to explode, explode hard and fast, and he wanted it more than anything in this world.

Akira nipped at the soft skin of Hikaru's neck again, savoring the taste, the feel, the pounding of his lover's heart as he licked at his pulse line.

His hips were rising up to meet Hikaru's every downstroke, and he felt something warm and sticky and sweet as the Yan Yan building and building inside him, threatening to burst in a luscious flood . . . and he wanted to bring Hikaru to that delicious place as well.

His other hand reached around his lover's body and grasped his manhood, stroking rapidly . . .

Hikaru gasped, and his whole body stiffened, and the combination of sensations suddenly turned into one enormous rush of ecstasy which broke over him in huge, shuddering waves, making him shriek his lover's name, and it was going on and on, oh, gods, it was never going to end, and he didn't want it to . . .

Akira felt Hikaru tighten around him . . . and tighten again . . . and then he was flooded with heat, pulsing through him again and again as he let out a loud cry, and then he finally sagged to the seat limp, and Hikaru was sagging against him . . .

Hikaru turned his head, and they kissed, sweetly. Hikaru made a small "mmmm" purring sound, and turned so he could lean his head on Akira's chest, and they could wrap their arms around each other.

For a long moment, they just sat there in silence, savoring each other's heat, their closeness, the fuzzy beauty of the afterglow.

Then, Akira, said, "Hikaru?"


"Those cameras weren't turned on, were they?"

"Relax. They just show the board."

"But they have *audio*!"


"Well, if they were, someone got one hell of a show, didn't they?"

Akira sat bolt upright. "WHAT?"

Hikaru finally got off his lap, kissing him softly. He reached in another compartment of his backpack for tissues, handing some to Akira. "I don't think anyone was in the game-viewing room. Not at this time of night."

They cleaned themselves up, then Hikaru leaned over with his forehead against Akira's, an arm around him. "So . . . was your fantasy everything you wanted it to be?"

Akira kissed him. "Everything . . . and more."

"Mints . . . I have to hand it to you for that one. Even I wouldn't have thought of that!"

"I just thought like I do when I play. I saw a move I could make . . . and I made it."

Hikaru began hunting for his scattered clothes. "Seems a shame to go back," he said.

"They're probably wondering what happened to us already," Akira replied, starting to pull his boxers back on.

But something in the back of his mind was thinking, *I'm going to walk back in that tournament room with a secret . . . that I made love in the Room of Profound Darkness . . . and nobody will ever know . . .*

And that made Akira develop something he was almost never seen wearing . . . a mischievous smile.


Thanks megatons to Aishuu, who acted as my editor on this story. Thanks also to Sonya, Steve and my GoGo Neko friends, to Lady Cosmos for getting me into HikaGo and to everyone who read and commented on my first HikaGo lemon, "French Vanilla."

And thanks to the makers of Yan Yan, whom without this story would have been very different. ~_^

For anyone who's interested in doing their own romantic erotica . . . I'm involved in a new Yahoo Group, Sweet Lemon, where people can post stories, give and receive feedback, or just discuss the craft of lemon writing. To learn more about the group, please visit

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.