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Gravity	By : Robofetus Category: +G to L > Hikaru no Go Views: 10925 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hikaru no Go, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Gravity
- 1
I do not own Hikaru no Go or its characters and I receive no money from writing this fanfiction.

Gravity

It was unavoidable. Bound to happen. There are some things that must come to pass, no matter what, regardless of the nature of the circumstances, the position of the stars, the direction of the wind�the necessary and ineffable consequences of the basic natures of those involved. The two had locked horns upon first meeting, neither realizing yet the significance, and later found that they were not able to pull apart from one another.

It was just meant to be that way.

And time went on, and after much chasing and cursing and caffeinated beverages in cans, semantic misunderstandings, chance meetings, evasive answers, reluctant thanks, unspoken compromises and many, many arguments, they had settled into something of a routine. They were fixed elements in one another's lives. They had for some length of time now counted on the inevitability of this, and they'd quickly found they didn't mind it much.

And so, they met up with each other. A running appointment that couldn't be pre-empted. It either began late or early, but almost always ran overtime. Usually they met at the go salon. Sometimes they met at one another's houses, if the meeting needed to run late into the night, and sometimes if it didn't. (Twice before, they'd even met�and stayed�outdoors; those two days had been very hot, so they moved the games outside in the shade, at Hikaru's insistence, because not only was his upstairs room the hottest place in his house, but there was no hope of catching much of a breeze if they stayed indoors.) Both boys were content with the overall arrangement, and neither gave it much thought anymore.

Hikaru knew Akira. He knew the step of his walk, the pitch and timbre of his voice, the careful way he counted out his money and how mue use usually carried with him, the way he very neatly folded his jacket over his arm. He knew that he liked mints, that he didn't want anyone to know that he enjoyed reading about himself in periodicals, that he was just a little bit afraid of heights, and he disapproved strongly of nailbiting.

Akira knew Hikaru. He knew that he bathed at night and not in the morning, that he kicked stuff once in a while when he got mad, that he worried a little bit sometimes that he'd need glasses when he got older, and he'd always sort of wanted a dog. He knew the difference in the way he ate things that he did and didn't like, the way he couldn't hide his excitement during or after a difficult game, and that he truly and honestly had less than a ghost of an idea of the extent of his abject disrespect toward his elders.

They almost always called each other by r gir given names, now�Akira, more frequently than Hikaru, slipped and used the other's surname. They often ate lunch together. They acknowledged each other with a nod if they happened to meet by chance on the street. They knew each other's birth dates.

They were friends, in a manner of speaking. Rivals also, naturally, but rivals with a sort of easy and implicit truce between them. (Who still argued a lot. And usually very loudly.)

And so, it was not at all unusual for Hikaru to meet Akira at his house in the late afternoon, when both of them had fulfilled their respective obligations for the day. This one was a cool day in the early spring. There were new buds on most of the trees, and it was supposed to raaterater, sometime after midnight. Hikaru took a cab to the Touya residence, where Akira was already waiting for him in front of the go board. He announced his presence and let himself in to the large and alarmingly clean house, took off his shoes, and knelt down on the floor across from his opponent.

"Nigiri?" Akira asked, not surprised by Hikaru's rudeness in just waltzing into the house without waiting for the to to be answered. Not surprised, and not really offended.

"I'll just take black," Hikaru answered, understanding that if Akira objected, he would say so and wouldn't get mad.

Akira didn't object. He handed the requested go stones across the board to his friend, and opened the lid of his own container. They wished each other luck, and began their game.

Akira quickly began to dominate the board, and Hikaru started to look a little distracted, and finally complained that he was thirsty.

"My parents are out, so I can't ask my mother to get you something, but I could go and get you some tea. Or would you rather have orange juice?"

Hikaru looked up from the game, hopefully. "If you have orange juice, that'd be awesome."

Akira didn't reply verbally, but lowered his head once in understanding and rose to his feet right away. Hikaru looked back down while his friend left the room and tried to think of a way to survive in the upper left corner. After a half minute or so, he began to notice that his feet were asleep.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Akira was pouring his guest a generous glass of fruit juice. He didn't set it on a tray or saucer, but just poured it and turned to carry it back. However, fate treated him cruelly�a recipe card from his mother's collection had fallen on the recently-waxed floor, and he slipped on it. It was all he could do not to fall on his face. The glass of orange juice fell, shattered and spilled.

At about this same time, Hikaru got up to shake out his legs a little bit and get his circulation to work right again. He decided to walk to the kitchen. Akira was, in his opinion, taking too long.

For some reason, Akira's first thought was not to clean the mess, but to pour another glass of juice for Hikaru. He had his back turned and was doing this, when he heard from behind him, very loudly:

"YA�ACK!"

Akira whirled around, and saw his friend on one foot, struggling to keep his balance as thick drops of blood ran down from his stocking into the puddle of orange juice beneath him. He covered his mouth with one hand in surprise, just for a moment, and very quietly said, "Oh."

Then he immediately sprang to action. He dodged the mess in one leaping dash, grabbed Hikaru by the shoulders with both hands, and steadied him so that he could hop out of the kitchen onto safe flooring. Hikaru said, "Fuck!" only once, then bit down on his lower lip and grimaced quietly as he was led carefully backwards to a chair.

When Hikaru was sitting, Akira brought his guest's leg up to inspect the injured right foot. He would need to cut the sock off to see the injury without upsetting it.

"I'm getting scissors," Akira called over his shoulder as he sprinted back into the kitchen, careful to avoid stepping near dangerous places. He opened a drawer and took out his mother's kitchen scissors, which he knew to be sharp. Then he hurried back to Hikaru.

Carefully, Akira cut along the side of the thin, wash-worn stocking, then gently pulled it off. Hikaru gritted his teeth.

Peering closely at the exposed injuries, Akira saw that there were two pieces of glass imbedded in Hikaru's foot. Both were visible, but there seemed to be a few smaller punctures whose pieces of glass must have been removed with the sock�these were mostly in the ball of his foot. The two remaining were larger, and had pierced through the stocking. The smaller one was in the callused skin of the heel, and a very large one stuck in the arch. The blood around the glass was already clotting, but there was a lot of it.

"Hikaru? I'm going to go and wash my hands, and get some things to bind the wounds. I'll be back very soon."

He didn't wait to see Hikaru's nod, but got up and rushed to the bathroom, where he washed his hands thoroughly with very hot water and nervously grabbed some gauze tape, cotton, and iodine. He stopped and thought for a moment if he would need anything else, and took out a clean washcloth and dampened it with hot water. Then he returned to the other room where Hikaru was waiting. He was looking calmer, but still a little upset.

"Sorry, for bleeding all over your house," he said.

Akira looked up at his guest sharply, surprised. "Please, don't say that! It's my fault you were injured. I should apologize to you, instead."

Hikaru laughed shortly, and maybe a little wryly.

"You get mad about the weirdest stuff."

Akira knelt again in front of Hikaru. "I'm going to take the glass out now," he said.

He placed the washcloth and cotton balls on his knee, and set the other things on the floor. Holding Hikaru's foot steady with his left hand (squeezing just slightly harder than necessary), he gently plucked out the larger, and then the slightly smaller glass shards. Hikaru remained still and bravely silent, but he squinted, and his eyes watered a little.

Not knowing what else to do with the shards, Akira set them gently down on the remains of Hikaru's sock. He brought his face closer to the foot and inspected it, but there was too much blood to see what the wounds looked like.

"I'm goingwipewipe the blood off so I can see how bad it is. You may have to go to the hospital and get stitches, if it's too severe."

Hikaru, uncharacteristically quiet, just nodded.

Unfolding the wet cloth, Akira changed the position of his hand holding onto the foot, and gently dabbed around at the blood. It was thick, and there didn't seem to be very much fresh blood rushing back to replace what he wiped off. He folded the cloth over and continued cleaning off the skin around the cuts. When he was satisfied, he set the cloth down on the floor next to the sock.

"The one gash in the instep is long," Akira said to Hikaru, "but I don't think it's very serious. Since your arch is raised, it didn't go in as deeply as it would if you'd stepped on it with any other part of your foot. It doesn't seem to be bleeding much anymore. If you want to go get it treated�"

Hikaru cut him off. "No. Let's stay here. I want to finish our game."

"I'll put some antiseptic on it for you, and wrap it up," answered Akira, nodding his understanding. He uncapped the little bottle, and began to apply the dark liquid carefully to Hikaru's injury with the dropper.

"OUCH!"

"Sorry, but please endure it. It could get infected if�"

"God, it's just like you to use fricking iodine," Hikaru complained. "I'm amazed you didn't bring out Bactine! Don't you have something that hurts a little less?"

Akira paused. He had always used iodine to disinfect cuts. But now that Hikaru mentioned it, he'd seen his mother use a tube of something when she'd cut herself in the kitchen�

"I might have something. Wait here."

"'Wait here'? What the hell else am I gonna do?" Hikaru snapped, with all his usual tact and modesty. Akira said nothing, just left to retrieve the Neosporin.

He found it quickly, and padded back to where his guest was still sitting with his foot in the air and his arms crossed, looking annoyed. Akira wanted to yell at him for being so impolite, but he still felt kind of bad about what had happened. So, he kept silent, and kneeled once more in front of Hikaru's outstretched foot, supporting it again with his hand so that Hikaru could relax.

"This shouldn't hurt as badly," he said, and squeezed some of the ointment into his palm. The tube was almost completely full. Still, it was so thick, that it took a few seconds to get a large enough amount out.

He watched Hikaru's face closely as he brought his hand up to touch the injury. He noticed that for some reason, he felt inordinately guilty that the other boy had been hurt in his house. He noticed that he was terrified of making it worse.

He also noticed that he was acutely aware that he was about to touch Hikaru. Touch him in the place where he was most vulnerable right now.

He swallowed loudly.

"Hikaru? Tell me if it's too bad. If you want me to stop, I mean."

His friend looked puzzled, but nodded. Akira nodded, too, shortly. Then, keeping one eye on Hikaru's face to gauge his reaction, he began.

Most impressively, Hikaru didn't wince when Akira touched him�just closed his eyes. Akira applied very gradual pressure, hovering his hand just over the wound and moving in much more slowly than he needed to. He kept his palm still on the broken skin for a few seconds, then rubbed the salve in firmly in very small back-and-forth motions, making sure to treat both large cuts, then up to the smaller ones, running his hand in a direction that was lengthwise along the largest wound so that he wouldn't accidentally reopen it.

He looked down and stared at his hand, moving gently over Hikaru's foot. There was blood. It was absurd, and embarrassing. And much too intimate, somehow. Rivals�even friends, they didn't touch each other's feet, did they? He felt strange. Like he was getting caught misbehaving, in a foolish way.

"Hey, quit," Hikaru breathed.

Akira jerked his hand back like he'd been burned and looked wide-eyed back at Hikaru, feeling even guiltier now and still not exactly understanding why.

Hikaru smiled sheepishly, and said, "Uh, I didn't think you were going to stop. You were off in space."

"Ah, sorry," Akira said, dumbly, still on his knees on the floor, staring up at Hikaru. He seemed to snap back into reality a second or two after Hikaru raised an eyebrow at him, and he nodded twice, holding Hikaru's foot by the heel with his left hand, and reaching for the cotton and medical tape with his right. He held the roll of tape with his teeth while he placed two cotton balls carefully on the larger cut, and gradually applied pressure while unwinding and ripping off a short length of gauze. He fixed the cotton in place snugly using the tape, but before he put the last cotton ball over the smaller cut, he realized that he could probably just put a regular adhesive bandage over that one, as well as the others. So, he dropped the cotton and began to wrap more gauze around Hikaru's foot.

He worked very slowly, and was careful not to wrap too tightly. Hikaru mostly kept his eyes closed.

When it was finished, Akira tore the tape off and set the roll on the floor. He inspected the foot again, running his forefinger very lightly along the bandaging, was was satisfied that it was even, and not too thickly wrapped. He looked down at Hikaru's sock. There were two red stripes near the top, faded from many washings, that looked especially lackluster near the deep red of fresh blood. He wondered for a moment if he should offer Hikaru one of his own socks. The other boy's voice startled him, as it usually did.

"Hey, wake up already! Is it done?"

"Yes, mostly," Akira said, nodding, but not looking up.

Hikaru was about to speak again, but paused. He studied the young man kneeling on the floor in front of him. It was very strange to see him from above. It looked like his hair was parted with a ruler.

He decided that it probably was.

Still, he noticed that there was something about the other boy now that was even weirder than usual, though he didn't know what it was. Even so, it was comfortable here with him, somehow. He felt warm. The light from a nearby window fell across the floor near him, diagonally. There wasn't very much of it. It was dusk already, and the sun would set very soon. And he was just comfortable.

"Thanks for bandaging it up for me," Hikaru said, breaking the silence, if for no other reason than that he was accustomed to breaking silences between them. "It feels all right. You did a good job."

"You're welcome." Akira got up from the floor suddenly, with the roll of gauze in one hand and the cotton, sock, and glass in the other. "I'm going to throw these away and clean the mess in the kitchen. I'll also get a clean sock for you, and band-aids for your smaller cuts."

While Akira left to go do exactly what he said he would, Hikaru crossed his legs and ran a hand over his bandage. There was Neosporin spread in places that the gauze didn't cover. He wondered idly if he'd have a scar, and decided that he probably would but that it didn't matter since it was on the bottom of his foot.

"Who looks at the bottom of your foot?" he muttered to himself, quietly. His mind supplied him with an answer: Akira, somehow, had ended up looking at the bottom of his foot. Akira would know about his cuts there, probably be the only one to know. Akira knew many things about him that no one else would. He kept track of Hikaru's match schedule as well as his own. He could tell when he was starting to come down with a cold. He even seemed to have developed a fair understanding of the way Hikaru thought, just from being his opponent so often.

It felt strange, to have someone who knew him like that. It felt strange, and comfortable.

Akira came back with a band-aid, and Hikaru stretched his foot out again. As Akira knelt down and pressed the first bandage gently on his heel, Hikaru stopped thinking about Akira and thought about the game again, but still watched his friend very closely.

In a second, it was done, and Akira rose to his feet. He looked down at Hikaru, who appeared to be lost in thought, and thought about how late it must be now, and wondered if he should mention dinner. He offered Hikaru a hand up.

And all along, it had been inevitable. Bound to happen. There was nothing either of them could really do. But when all is said and done, it was the way Akira touched Hikaru's hand that really started it off. Hikaru had his own part in it, too�after he had accepted Akira's hand and used the support to stand up, he didn't let go right away. He was standing in front of his friend, trying to decide how he should walk not to upset his foot, when Akira's forefinger brushed downward over his own, then back up. A simple movement, very light and almost imperceptible, but Hikaru had felt it. And Akira had meant it.

And there was no going back, from there.

Hikaru's eyes widened, and he realized the closeness of the other boy. He reciprocated the touch before he completely realized what was happening, trailing two fingers lightly across the middle of Akira's palm.

Akira was completely incredulous that he'd initiated such contact with the other boy, and was fiercely questioning himself. But in his haste he asked himself the wrong question�instead of asking, "Why is this happening?" he asked, "Why didn't this happen sooner?"

Still, Akira balked. He sort of froze up, but without going rigid. Hikaru seemed confused, and to some extent he was; nevertheless, he took Akira's hand and squeezed it.

This got Akira's attention again, but he didn't know if the gesture was meant as a signal that this skin contact would end, or progress. So, he kept balking. Hikaru picked up the slack, stepped even closer to the other boy, so that their feet almost occupied the same space and their chests were almost touching.

Then, he did what he'd had to do all along. He kissed Akira.

Akira opened his eyes wider. He'd never been kissed before. It felt�gentle, and moist, and completely bizarre. He didn't think about trying to stop it, but he did wonder if it was really all right. How long had he wanted to do this? What in the world was making it happen now, all of a sudden? He didn't know what to do with his hands.

One of them was easy�Hikaru was still holding his left. He lifted up his right, and grabbed onto Hikaru's short shirtsleeve. But that seemed impolite�he could wrinkle the fabric�so he moved it to hold loosely onto Hikaru's forearm. Then he closed his eyes.

Hikaru brought his own left arm and curled it around Akira, just above his hips. It occurred to him that Akira could have stopped this already, but he hadn't, which ought to mean something. Akira didn't mind. In fact, it was Akira who made the next move; he pressed closer. Hikaru let go of Akira's hand and brushed a few strands of hair out of his face, then kept his hand behind the other boy's head.

Akira's hand didn't know exactly what to do after that, and Akira wasn't thinking about it, so the hand just sort of stayed in the air next to Hikaru's side. Hikaru was trying to think of an excuse for all this in case of an emergency situation wherein Akira stopped kissing back and got mad. He clenched and unclenched his fingers in Akira's hair�no doubt a result of his habit of making fists on top of his knees when he was losing a game. He d't w't want Akira to get angry at him. He�liked Akira.

Meanwhile, Akira was about the farthest from angry that he'd ever been. Physical affection was something that he didn't have much experience with, and it was drugging. He felt Hikaru's tongue trace his lower lip, and he let it slip into his mouth. He opened his eyes again.

It had quickly grown darker outside, and now there was only a thin, blue light slanting in from the window. Hikaru was so close to him, it was disorienting. He felt like he might be afraid. He brushed his tongue slowly along Hikaru's, and watcfor for a reaction.

Hikaru had kept his eyes shut for at least as long as Akira had had his open, but now his brow was furrowed a little like he was struggling. Hikaru's brow didn't necessarily furrow when he was concentrating, but it almost always did when he was backed into a corner, or in a particularly tight battle where he had to choose between two or more unfriendly options. Akira wondered, for about the jillionth time, what in the world Shindou Hikaru was thinking.

Of course, Hikaru was thinking about Akira. Akira filled up his mouth and his arms and his hands and his thoughts. He was everywhere. He wanted to know how Akira would touch him, if he wanted to touch him. Like a lover. He had no way of guessing what Akira might be thinking or feeling now, or what he would do. He wanted to know. He wanted more than anything to know if Akira really wanted to touch him. There was a way to find out for sure, but he didn't want to try it.

He didn't want to let Akira go yet.

But Akira was the one who broke off the kiss. He took a step backward, out of Hikaru's arms. He was filled with words, but he had no idea what to say.

He did say something, though.

"Is your foot all right?"

Hikaru was a little too stunned to answer right away, which was just as well, because Akira wouldn't have really been mentally ready to process a response. There was a silence. Hikaru shook his head, but not to say no.

"It's fine." He stepped forward back into Akira's personal space, and touched the other boy's elbows, and leaned in to kiss him again. Akira didn't back up, and allowed the kiss, but he flinched slightly at first.

It was weird.

They kissed for several minutes, and allowed themselves to get used to the motions of it. Gradually, they pressed closer to each other. Hikaru could feel the progress of Akira's erection, just to the side of his own.

Akira's eyes shot open when he realized he wasn't the only one that was hard.

They were both out of breath.

Hikaru noticed that he was starting to sweat, just from the exertion of holding Akira against him so tightly. He eased his hold on the other boy, but didn't let go. Akira mistook this for a signal to stop, and broke the kiss again. He immediately regretted it.

It was as if time had stood still while they were kissing, and now it lurched back into motion. They both breathed quickly and raggedly to make up for insufficient oxygen. Shifting his weight, Akira accidentally stepped on Hikaru's foot.

"OW!"

"Oh! Sorry�"

"You would have to pick that one, wouldn't you?"

"I'm sorry." Akira blushed. After a second, Hikaru half-smiled, and gave Akira an apologetic squeeze for losing his temper.

"S'okay," he said. And Akira believed him.

So they stood there like that for a littlele, le, staying close to one another, not exactly avoiding each other's gazes, but not exactly looking at each other either. They were still more or less embracing. They didn't want to move. They didn't know how to start again. It soon evolved into full-fledged eye contact-avoiding. Akira was the first to give up.

"We're being stupid," he pointed out. Hikaru nodded and sighed.

"How did we end up like this?"

"I�like it."

Akira had the feeling of having just said something immeasurably stupid, but Hikaru's calm acceptance of the situation was reassuring. And he remembered that it was Hikaru that he was with right now. Only Hikaru, who he knew inside and out and backwards�this wasn't a formal occasion. He realized that his shoulders were tense, and he relaxed them.

"Yeah," Hikaru said, and touched the bottom of Akira's chin, and leaned in and kissed him again. AkP>Akira was lost. He'd thought about this before, of course�sort of, but in a thousand years he never thought that it could actually happen. It was so strange, to be allowed to touch so freely. He sank deeper, slowly, into the kiss, and held on just a little tighter. Hikaru's hands slid up the back of his shirt and moved over him there, and he couldn't check a shiver and a quiet moan.

He was dizzy. He felt like he'd been blown up with helium. He wanted very much to smile, all of a sudden, but he didn't want to risk ending the contact between his mouth and Hikaru's. He didn't know what would happen if he broke this kiss, even a little. Dizzy. Just�dizzy.

Somewhere in the fog of arousal and need, Hikaru achieved the miraculous presence of mind to start to try and move. He became aware that his knees were probably going to buckle�soon. He thought of the layout of the room they were in, and ruled out any of the chairs nearby as possible candidates for�what he wanted to do with Akira. There was nothing really meant to hold two people.

He came up for air.

"Akira�can we go, to your room? Or�"

"�Yes. It's�down. There. The hall."

Hikaru nodded, not letting go yet. He was wondering how it'd feel to walk on his foot. Not surprisingly, Akira was thinking the exact same thing.

"Will you need help walking?"

"Nah. It's all right."

Also not surprisingly, Akira didn't listen and helped Hikaru anyway, lifting his right arm over his shoulder and bracing him. Hikaru didn't have any will to fuss. Slowly, they walked together down the hall, stopping near the end. Turning left, Akira slid the door of his bedroom open, and they went inside.

If Hikaru had had to describe the way Akira's room would look before seeing it, he probably would've gotten it mostly right. It was tidy and Spartan, with one bookshelf, thin carpeting that looked brand new, an average-sized closet with absolutely no clutter and the most neatly-organized tie-rack he'd ever laid eyes on. No radio, no knick-knacks of any kind�not even a picture on the wall. Just a very plain-looking wall clock. The only thing that surprised him about the room at all was a potted plant sitting on the windowsill.

They headed straight for the bed, and Hikaru turned around so that Akira could help him sit down, even though it wasn't necessary. Akira began to take a step to sit down beside him, but Hikaru caught his wrist.

"Here. C'mere."

"What?"

Hikaru tugged impatiently on Akira's arm, until the other boy finally got what Hikaru meant. He didn't want Akira to sit next to him. He wanted him to sit down on him, over him.

Akira gulped silently. He stood facing the other boy, then carefully climbed into his lap, straddling him. Hikaru circled his arms loosely around the small of Akira's back and waited for him to get settled on top of him, then tightened his hold.

"Is it alright, to touch you again?" asked Hikaru, in a whisper.

Akira was wrapped up in the feeling of being so close�so close to Hikaru, so much so that he almost didn't hear the question. He answered automatically.

"Anywhere. Please."

The hands that were behind him moved to his sides, and slid up underneath the fabric of his vest, pulling it up and off. Then Hikaru begaakilakily undoing the buttons of his shirt. Apparently not feeling like helping, Akira brought his hands to the sides of the other boy's face and leaned down and kissed him, letting his fingers slide firm and slow down to the back of the base of his neck.

Hikaru moaned, and for a second forgot how to unfasten a button and just squeezed his eyes shut and held his breath. He was so hard. Akira was so hard. And so warm, and delicious�buttons. Clothes. He remembered, and continued unbuttoning.

Foggily catching on a little, Akira sat up straight to shrug his arms out of his shirt. It fell to the floor behind him. Hikaru was wearing a yellow and orange long-sleeved shirt, a little big on him, without buttons. Akira decided that he would leave that to Hikaru; since there were no buttons, it would be faster and easier for him to take it off himself. He thought about the shirt a little too long, and was jolted back to the present when he realized that the shirt had been discarded to a place unknown and that Hikaru was almost finished unfastening his own fly. Akira quickly looked down to take his belt off.

The metal buckle made a small noise when the belt hit the carpet. Akira wondered if there was a way to take his pants off without getting off of Hikaru's lap. He looked at the other boy.

"Hey, get off my lap. I can't take my pants off."

"Ah, right."

Awkwardly, Akira scooted on his legs off to Hikaru's side and rolled over into a sitting position. He was beginning to feel slightly bashful about taking off his clothes, now that he was farther away from the other boy. Still, he was committed now. He opened the fly of his dress slacks and slid them down.

In a moment of extraordinary control, now that Akira wasn't quite so close to him, Hikaru was able to regain some sense of balance and even a marginal awareness of what exactly was going on. He was with Akira, and it was nice. It was easy, and warm. It felt great to be here, now, with his friend. It felt great to touch him. The bed was even comfy. It was all just�nice. He smiled, and took a breath.

He felt like laughing out loud.

Akira's socks matched his underwear.

"Shind�Hikaru? Should I�should we lie down? Maybe we�"

"Geez! You take everything so seriously!"

"What?"

"Just relax. Take off your underwear."

Akira blushed harder than he ever knew he could, but complied with the suggestion. Only, he sort of forgot the part about relaxing. His hands were even trembling a little.

Still, he managed.

He laid himself down on his back on Hikaru's left, breathing unevenly. Hikaru turned over onto his right side to face him. Absently, he began to lightly stroke Akira's thigh with his hand. Akira closed his eyes.

Hikaru was brought to attention by a quiet, but very long moan. Akira didn't even seem to notice he'd done it. He smiled a little more.

He placed his hands on the mattress beside Akira's head, and looked down at him, leaning his weight on his fists.

"Hey, look at me. Open your eyes."

By the time he'd said 'open', Akira had already followed orders. They regarded each other for a second. Akira remained quietly impressed with Hikaru's composure. He lifted his right hand up, haltingly, like he was afraid of being bitten, and very lightly touched the side of Hikaru's face. He swallowed.

There was perfect silence, except for the occasional hiss of the odd car slipping down the street outside. Hikaru lowered himself down and kissed Akira, almost drowsily, still smiling all the while. Akira's body responded before his mind did, wrapping Hikaru in his arms tightly and kissing back in earnest�but his mind didn't have any real objections once it caught up.

Gradually, Hikaru rested more of his weight on Akira, feeling a strange weakness in his arms. Akira's mouth seemed to be getting hotter, and�he was�well.

Naked.

They were both just completely naked.

Hikaru reached down and wrapped his hand gently around Akira's erection. The other boy cried out weakly and arched into him, squeezing Hikaru's hand between them, and rolled his head back loosely, sighing and slackening his arms.

"Do you want�"

"Hmm?"

"I mean, is this? Are we�" Akira struggled. "What's going on? Do you think we might be in love?"

Hikaru shrugged.

"Scoot back," he said. Akira did.

"Uh, I think we're going to need something."

"What�?"

"You know what I mean. Hey, I'll be right back."

"Your foot, though."

"Don't have a cat. I know your house."

"No, let me get it. What are you talking about?"

But Hikaru had already risen from the bed and gone off, limping, to regions unknoAkirAkira sighed and laid back down and watched his ceiling, hearing a couple of bumps and mild expletives coming from the other side of the house.

In a little over a minute, Hikaru re-emerged, triumphantly, with the Neosporin. Akira sat up and looked at him, puzzled.

"Did you hurt yourself again?"

"Are you really that thick?"

"What?"

"Repeat after me. Lubricant. LUBE-RI-CANT. For lubricating."

"Lube�oh!"

"No>Lub>Lube-ri-cant. Say it with me."

"Shindou�"

"Hey, relax. You're redder than my foot. It'll be fine."

"Wait! You're going to�are y�"

He had to stop speaking, because he was being deeply and thoroughly kissed. Uncharacteristically missing the desire to argue with Hikaru, he kissed back and just closed his eyes.

The other boy's eyes, on the other hand, were open�attentively studying the young man he was making out with. He hadn't realized before what long eyelashes Akira had. It made him look kind of�like a sissy.

Hikaru was seized by a strange and wonderful sensation of euphoria. Akira was seized with a desperate urge to hyperventilate, which for some reason he wasn't able to fully accomplish. Akira was enthusiastically squeezed and pushed backwards again on the bed, feeling hands on his sides, hands in his hair, fingers on his nipples, hands underneath him squirming and smoothing over the too-hot skin of his back�too much at once. He groaned slow and loud, overwhelmed.

Hikaru spared almost half a second to think about how outrageously clean the sheets were�probafuckfucking starched�Geez!�Akira, you weirdo. Then, very suddenly, he wrapped his right hand around Akira's cock and stroked up once, paused, then back down.

Akira's eyes had never been bigger.

By instinct, he moved his hips with the motion of Hikaru's hand, quivering a little too much for it to not be embarrassing. But Hikaru seemed so eager and cheerful and still so casual about all this, though, that he couldn't keep feeling uneasy. He arched his back and curled his toes and groaned again.

He was very, very surprised by the finger.

Somehow, his eyes seemed to have fallen shut, and he was so shocked that his body jerked up before they even had a chance to reopen. He waited for them to catch up, then blinked.

How fast can this guy move? Akira wondered to himself, amazed that Hikaru had lubricated and slid his first finger inside him already. Well, he does like to play fast go� Reeling from the unfamiliar pleasure, he shook his head and just stopped trying to think. He never expected�wow.

Hikaru licked Akira's open mouth, moving his hand almost unconsciously, sped along by the low sounds and hushed raw pleading�still comfortable, so preposterously easy�but this was�an emergency! It was�he just had to hurry. Now.

He pushed another finger inside. Akira was getting used to it, but he still seemed a little bit bewildered. Concerned, Hikaru asked his friend, "You okay?"

"I don't know. Don't stop!"

He nodded understandingly, and stopped to squeeze some more Neosporin out into his hand. It smelled kinda like�chapped lip stuff, only a little different. He began to rub it on himself, over his cock. Even though he was still moving as quickly as he could, it was kind of slow because the ointment was so thick. In the low light, it was actually sort of gleaming.

Akira, gathering his wits about him during this short pause before the coming penetration, decided that he'd better take a couple deep breaths and calm down. He was making this more difficult than it had to be, he knew that. It just felt so good. He didn't know what to do, it felt so good.

"Hikaru?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it supposed to be like this?"

"I guess," he answered, as forthright as always, moving more closely over Akira, feeling his way to where he needed to be. When he felt the other boy relax, he was relieved. "I'm gonna start now, if it's okay."

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"I mean, it's�go ahead. Yes."

Hikaru did. He held Akira's hands in his and pressed himself inside, very slow and firm. He felt cautious arms wrap shakily around him and hold him fast. He nuzzled underneath Akira's chin, the left side of his neck, holding his hips still while the other boy adjusted and tried to finish relaxing.

He thought about Akira's eyes, and his mouth, and the way he set his jaw when he was determined�serious. He thought about the way he dressed and the way he smelled and his ridiculously well-pressed pants, rolled up too high and just dorky�and God, his socks. He thought about how much he missed him when he was out of town. He thought about his voice, and how it was different on the telephone. He felt hot breath in his hair. He rolled his hips, pushing deeper in, sinking.

Akira slid his hands up until they were behind Hikaru's neck, and allowed his legs to part more, letting the smooth, thick heat in farther, feeling it withdraw, sighing in helpless pleasure when it drove gently back. Hikaru was licking him now, his neck, his Adam's apple. Soft hands ran over his stomach, up across his chest, his nipples, then back down in hushed rhythm with another careful, shivering thrust.

Intimacy, Akira thought. This was what it was to be close to someone, as close as you can be. You lie down undressed with them, and you press your bodies close together and you don't talk, you just touch. It wasn't sure, but it wasn't shy or lazy or apologetic�it was quiet, deep. Secret. Sweet.

He thought about Hikaru's laugh and his weird hair and his body, and the way he easily became oblivious to the rest of the entire universe if he was playing a game, or eating good ramen, or looking for something�and his body. So close and so� soft and hard and gentle and unreserved. Inside him.

Getting closer.

Hikaru clenched his teeth and restrained himself from thrusting too hard or too fast. He raised himself up on his arms and looked down at Akira, whose eyes were closed against the pleasure. Hikaru dropped back down onto him, receiving several urgent, desperate quick thrusts against him in response. There was a great deal of precome between them, lubricating Akira, stimulating him more, further. Hikaru could tell. The way he was struggling, the way he was breathing�this clenching�he was going to reach climax soon. He couldn't help it.

Neither of them could help it.

Hikaru was first, but only by a fraction of a second. He only barely had time to force his eyes back open to see Akira's head fall back, giving a moan that was almost a howl, feeling the hot liquid surge out between them. After a few delicious moments, it was suddenly over, and they were left to look into each other's eyes and try not to pant.

Akira swallowed thickly. There was no wind left in him, and his vision was bleary. Dazed and out of breath, he tried speaking.

"Can you see the phone? I mean, the fridge? I mean the clock."

Hikaru giggled. Akira with his hair messed up was truly a sight to behold.

"Hey, stop laughing. Can you see the clock or not?"

"You tell me not to laugh, and then you make a face like that! What am I supposed to do?"

"My parents might be coming back soon. We need to�"

"Wow, eight thirty already."

"WHAT? They'll be back in half an hour. We need to get dressed�"

"Chill. We've got plenty of time."

Akira was mad. "How can you be so nonchalant about this? What if they come home early? What did you do with our�"

Hikaru laughed again, and Akira shut up, amazed. Hikaru was naked. He'd just had sex. They could've been caught�they still could be caught. And he wasn't the slightest bit unsettled by these circumstances.

Akira smiled a little.

"You're right. Sorry."

"S'okay," Hikaru said, smiling.

And Akira believed him.
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