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Go Go Dancer	By : sailormac Category: +G to L > Hikaru no Go Views: 5820 -:- 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-Go Go Dancer
- 1
DISCLAIMER: Hikaru no Go is property of Yumi Hotta, Takeshi Obata and Shueisha. No profit is being made from this fanfic.

GO GO DANCER

A Hikaru no Go Sekkushiaru Roman

by Sailor Mac

The lunch buzzer sounded throughout the playing room. Hikaru sat back on his heels and took a deep breath. He was glad to have the break. His opponent had an annoying style of playing -- he would sit there and study and study the board, then make a move all of a sudden. To Hikaru, who always preferred and played better in fast games, it was just about torturous.

He got to his feet, yawning and stretching, and looked around. Sure enough, there was Akira, calmly getting up from his own board and walking toward him. *He* certainly didn't seem to be having any problems with that days' opponent.

"Ready to go?" Hikaru said as his lover joined him. They walked together into the anteroom to get their shoes.

"Do I have to ask where you want to eat?" Akira said, taking his shoes from the cubbyhole.

"Nope," Hikaru replied, pulling on his own.

Sighing, Akira led the way to the elevator. "We had ramen on the *last* game day."

"Yes, but that was two days ago!" The car arrived, and the boys stepped in, along witb several other players.

"Shindou . . . can't we go somewhere else?"

"Well, there's the burger place . . ." The bell dinged as it arrived at its destination, and the occupants spilled out. The two adults who had been in the elevator were already pulling out their packs of cigarettes. Hikaru wondered why so many Go pros smoked. He figured it might be so they'd have something to do with their hands when not holding the stones.

"There's plenty of other places we can go," Akira said as they headed out to the street. "Sushi, soba . . ."

Hikaru wrinkled his nose. "I don't like soba." He remembered all too well being dragged to the soba restaurant by Tsubaki the very first day of the pro exam. His extreme case of nerves had just made the buckwheat noodles taste all the more cold and slimy.

"You've never really given it a chance," Akira replied as they headed out the door.

"I *have* given it a chance! And I didn't like it!"

Akira rubbed his temple. He didn't feel like getting into a fight with Hikaru . . . he was on the verge of a headache, and a fight would push it over the edge. He told himself it was just because of the game . . . but there were other things bringing it on as well.

"Look," he said, "why don't we just go to the Igo Trip Café?" The restaurant wasn't one of Akira's favorites -- they tried to be a Japanese version of an American diner, serving a wide variety of cooked, raw and noodle dishes instead of one specialty of the house like most Japanese lunch places. As a result, nothing they served was top-notch. But it was at least edible, and they had items that would be satisfactory to both himself and Hikaru.

Hikaru shrugged. "Okay with me."

Akira let out a long sigh of relief. Maybe, if they were lucky, they could get one of those booths in the back where they could have privacy. He needed to talk to Hikaru, and he certainly didn't want to do it with his friends around -- which was the main reason he didn't want to go to McDonald's.

They weren't quite that lucky -- they ended up at a table off to the side, in a medium-traffic area -- but Akira decided it was good enough. Once the waitress took their orders, he leaned over and said to Hikaru in a quiet voice, "Shindou . . . how are things at home?"

Hikaru frowned a bit. "Home?"

"You know . . . is your home going to be *available* at all in the next few days?"

Hikaru looked down and sighed. "No," he said. "My parents aren't going anywhere. No visits, no trips, nothing."

"Same here," Akira said, quietly, fiddling with his cuff. "Apparently my father's league in China is in ow pow period. He won't have games for at least another couple of weeks."

Hikaru groaned in frustration. It seemed that Akira had been saying the same thing over and over for an eternity. They had gotten so spoiled when they'd first become lovers -- it seemed that one house or the other was always available when they wanted privacy. But now, that privacy seemed to have dried up.

"We've got to think of something else," Hikaru said. "There's got to be a place . . ."

"Like where?" said Akira.

"Like . . . maybe the Go Institute! There's lots of storerooms there, right? Or we could use somebody's car for an hour or so! Or . . ."

Akira slammed his hand down on the table. "Don't be ridiculous!" he nearly yelled. His head was starting a slow throbbing. *Great*, he thought, *I'm going to have this going back into my game.*

"Well, you come up with something!" Hikaru rose from his seat, his voice gradually growing louder. "I'm just as frustrated as you! If we don't come up with something soon . . . I'm going to literally explode!"

There was a sudden quiet in the room as the conversations around them stopped. Heads turned toward the table, and Hikaru felt like a million eyes were on him. He saw one older man at a table opposite theirs with a scowl across his mustachioed face, his eyes full of scorn.

Hikaru let out a forced laugh and said quickly, "Just kidding." He quickly sat back in his seat, a deep blush spreading over his face.

Akira folded his arms and gave Hikaru his full glare, the one that had scared more than one opponent into resigning. "I'd like to discuss this without informing the entire restaurant about . . . what we want to do."

"Well, I'm sorry," Hikaru said, folding his own arms. "It's not exactly something I can stay calm about."

There was a long pause, during which the waitress brought their drinks. Hikaru began to wrap his straw paper around and around his finger. Akira just fiddled with his cuffs again. Hikaru wished he wouldn't do that . . . there was just something about it that drove him nuts.

Then, suddenly, Akira said, "Why don't we go to a love hotel?"

Hikaru nearly knocked his soda over. "WHAT?" he cried, then slammed his hand over his own mouth, blushing as he felt eyes on him again.

"It's what they're there for, isn't it? We can afford it, and they're discreet about who goes in and out."

Hikaru leaned over the table, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Touya . . . how do *you* know about love hotels?"

Now it was Akira's turn to blush. "When you're around adults all your life . . . you hear things."

"Oh? Just *hearing* things? And I thought you were a virgin the first time we . . ."

"SHINDOU!" Akira wanted to duck under the table.

Hikaru sat back a little. "Okay, okay . . . when do you want to go?"

"Tomorrow . . . after I'm done with school. It's Saturday, so I only have a half-day. I'll find one that's far enough away from the Go Institute so people won't see us, there's a Web page that . . ."

"Oh, so you know *exactly* how to find one?" Hikaru said in a teasing tone again.

"Only because I heard other people talking about it! Hey, what are you laughing for? SHINDOU!"

* * *

Akira rushed up the subway stairs, careful not to go *too* fast. He didn't want to seem over-eager . . . even if he was.

He was just glad he didn't have any tests today. Concentrating in class had been very, very difficult. He felt like a man who'd been starving for weeks who was about to attend a banquet.

It amazed him how sex had played *no* part in his life . . . until he started sleeping with Hikaru. Then it moved to center stage. Well, sharing center stage, anyway.

But the *other* thing that was at the center of his life, Go, was *also* something that directly involved Hikaru.

His lover was waiting at the top of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest and wearing a slight frown. "You're late," he said.

"I came here right from school!" Akira replied, pulling his bookbag back up on his shoulder. "I couldn't exactly sneak out early!"

"You usually get here faster when there's a game," Hikaru said as they started to walk in the direction of the hotel.

Akira was going to retort, but bit it back. The last thing in the world he wanted was to fight with Hikaru. Not now, not when they were so close to ending their long sexual drought.

"The hotel's around the corner this way," he said. "It's not one of the flashier ones on the outside . . . it looks like an old American house. There was a picture of it on the site."

Hikaru sped up a bit to keep pace with Akira. "Then how do you know it's a . . ."

"You'll know when you see it."

They rounded the corner. There was a small grocery, a smoke shop, a newsstand . . . and beyond that, a three-story version of Tara from "Gone With the Wind." Hikaru stood gaping at the graceful columns, the front porch that seemed to go on for miles -- complete with wicker rockers, the immaculately manicured lawn.

Then, he noticed the couples scurrying in and out of the building. A college-age man and woman walking hand-in-hand toward the door, a middle-aged man and a much older woman coming out, two men who were a few years older than Hikaru and Akira following them.

Hikaru's eyes snapped open as he saw a man in his mid-30s and a woman of about the same age headed for the door, seemingly unable to keep their hands and lips off each other. "Hey!" he cried. "Is that . . ."

Akira slammed a hand over Hikaru's mouth and gave him his full mid-game death glare. Hikaru blushed. Blurting things out had always been one of his worst habits.

"No, it's not Iwanoto 7-dan," Akira whispered. "I thought so too at first, but . . . the hair's longer."

Hikaru breathed a long sigh of relief. But as the boys crossed the lawn and climbed the steps, a terrible thought entered Hikaru's head . . . if this place was on the Web, what was to stop other Go players from finding it? What were the odds of them running into someone like, say, Ogata? But no, he wouldn't have to bring his dates here, would he? He had his own apartment. Maybe some of the married players were cheating on their wives?

*If that were the case*, he thought, *anyone who hung around a love hotel long enough would probably be able to blackmail half of the Go world.*

He swallowed hard. He couldn't think too hard about the idea of other players coming here. If he did, he wouldn't be able to go through with it.

They entered the lobby, a square-shaped room with a small fountain in the center. The walls were linedh plh plastic panels, some of which were illuminated with lights behind them. Each showed one of the rooms within the hotel and had a number.

"I guess the ones that are lit up are available?" said Hikaru. He glanced around. "Where's the front desk?"

Akira pointed across the room, to a panel of opaque glass that was covering a window. Under it was an opening and money tray like one would find in a bank. As Hikaru watched, a couple approached the window and the man handed over money, saying, "Thirty-two." An electronic card key was pushed back at the man, and the light behind panel number 32 was turned out. Cashier and customer never saw each other's faces.

Hikaru frowned. It all seemed rather . . . impersonal. But he figured it was probably for the best, if there were married people coming here with people other than their spouses.

He turned his attention to the illustrations of the rooms. Some of them looked rather sedate . . . a nice canopy bed and antique furnishings. Others were more garish, like the one with a bed shaped like a pink tail-finned Cadillac, or the one with a swimming pool in the middle of the floor.

There was even one with swings, and another with a huge pool table (Hikaru figured the pool table was where the couple was expected to do it in this case). And then there was the full S&M dungeon -- racks of whips, manacles, painful-looking devices -- which he looked away from very quickly.

And then, his eyes landed on another room, and a huge smile spread over his face. This was perfect. Oh, he was getting ideas just from looking at it.

He sprinted for the window, pulling out his wallet, glad he had just cashed a check the day before. He and Akira had agreed to split the cost of the hotel . . . but Akira could pay him back later.

"Fifty-five, please," he told the unseen cashier, shoving the money under the slot.

Akira rushed over to him. "Shindou! What did you just get?"

Hikaru took the key, a mischievous smile on his face. "You'll see."

"What?"

"Don’t worry," Hikaru said, walking toward the elevator, "it isn't anything bad."

The elevator arrived with a ping. Hikaru stepped in, casually, humming. Akira stormed in, eyes burning with intensity. "Come on! Tell me!"

Hikaru continued to hum, passing the electronic key back and forth between his hands.

When the car arrived at the second floor, Hikaru dashed past Akira, giggling a bit. Akira took off in hot pursuit, which struck Hikaru as very amusing -- after all, how much time had they spent chasing each other? He reached the door, unlocked it, slipped inside and closed it behind him before Akira could catch up.

Akira pounded on the door . . . what the *hell* was his lover trying to pull? "SHINDOU! Open this door NOW! SHINDOU!"

And then, the door on the opposite end of the hall opened, and a man stormed out. He was in his mid-twenties, tall and athletic, with short, sandy-brown hair. He was also totally nude.

"Hey!" the man shouted. "Keep it down out there! Don't you know that people want privacy?"

Akira turned red. He tried to find words, but all he could do was stammer. "S-s-sorry," he managed to get out.

"You'd better be!" the man said, and stomped back into his room, slamming the door shut.

Akira seethed. Shindou was *really* dead now. *Whatever he's planning had better be damn good,* Akira thought, *to make up for . . .*

And then, he heard a small click, like the door latch inside being undone, followed by retreating footsteps. Tentatively, he reached out and turned the door handle . . . which opened. He entered the room, quickly remembering to make sure the lock was on when he closed it.

He looked around. The room was large, the walls painted a dark, dusty pink. There was a bed covered in black satin to the left, with a nighttable next to it. Nearby was a small refrigerator and a television.

But those weren't the most interesting features of the room. That was at the other end, where there were three small, wooden tables with matching chairs . . . the kind you'd find at a bar. In front of the tables was a small stage, which contained a single object, a firehouse pole. And the stage also had a single occupant -- Shindou Hikaru, wearing a black satin kimono that matched the bed.

"Welcome," Hikaru said. "Sit down . . . the show's about to begin."

*Show?* Akira thought. He sat down at one of the tables and watched as Hikaru fiddled with what looked like a stereo setup at the edge of the stage.

A pounding beat began to come from the speakers standing on either side of the stage, and Hikaru moved slowly to the edge, moving his hips to the music. Giving his lover a sly smile, he lowered one shoulder so the fabric began to slide down it, just enough to show a tantalizing glimpse of bare shoulder. He quickly spun around so his other shoulder was facing Akira and did the same thing, letting it fall a little further this time, letting Akira look a little longer.

Akira found himself fidgeting with his cuffs, much faster than he normally did. He couldn't take his eyes off Hikaru. There was just something about the way he was moving, the way he was looking at him, that was just . . . hot. It conveyed volumes without words.

Facing Akira again, Hikaru swayed his hips back and forth, slowly unfastening the tie of his kimono, pushing the fabric apart just enough to show a strip of chest, then fastening it again.

He moved over to the pole and slowly stroked his fingers up and down it, almost reverently, as if he were caressing a lover's body. Grasping it above his head, he swung his body halfway around it, then back.

His eyes locked with Akira's again, and he gave him another naughty smile, one which seemed to hold the promise of much, much more to come later.

Then, in one swift motion, he reached down, pulled apart the tie of the kimono and flung it on the floor. He was wearing nothing underneath but a black satin G-string.

Akira let out a gasp. Hikaru looked more beautiful than he'd ever seen him before -- sexy, and definitely more than a bit naughty. This was a far cry from the boy who wore flannel shirts, blue jeans and an endless array of T-shirts with the number "5" on them. This was a side of Shindou Hikaru that nobody who knew him casually would think was there.

Hikaru began to do a slow bump-and-grind, sliding his hands along his own chest, down to his stomach, and upward. One hand kept going up, tangling in his hair as he leaned his head back, an expression of sensual bliss on his face.

The fingers of the other hand slid over to his right nipple and stroked it, caressed it slowly, pinched it a little.

Akira felt his heart pound and his head swim. He wanted to jump up on that stage, grab that boy, slam him against the wall and ravish him. But he stayed rooted to the chair, mesmerized, wanting to see what he would do next.

Hikaru danced back to the pole, swaying his hips. He grasped it above his head with both hands, stood with one leg on either side and spread wide, and began to rub his satin-covered manhood on it, moving his hips up and down in rapid thrusting motions. He threw his head back and let out a moan loud enough for Akira to hear it over the music.

He turned slightly to the left and began rubbing his whole body up and down it now, his bare chest, now covered with a bit of sweat, moving up and down against the cool, polished wood. He looked over at Akira and locked eyes with him, giving him an intense, fiery gaze.

Then, he began to lick the pole, putting his tongue on it and moving his whole body downward, then upward, then downward again, never taking his eyes off Akira.

Akira heard himself moaning. One hand was sliding under his own shirt, seeking a nipple . . . oh, gods, he wanted Hikaru to come off that stage and put that tongue on *him*, now . . .

Another turn, and Hikaru had his back to his audience now. He pushed back against the pole so the wood was cupped between the cheeks of his bottom, which the G-string left bare. Up and down he moved, and he let out a small groan at the sensation . . . the solid smoothness felt *good*, and just made him wish it was Akira's hardness rubbing there.

Not yet . . . he was going to dance a little more. He grasped the pole with one hand and began to swing his body around it, wanting to go all the way around several times.

And then there was a sharp pain in his shin. He felt to his knees, yelping and rubbing at it.

*Dammit, dammit, dammit!* he thought. It was going so well, and then he had to whack his leg on the stupid pole!

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Akira start to get up. *He's going to come see if I'm all right, and then it will be totally ruined,* he thought. *I have to salvage this!*

He stood back up and fixed Akira with what he hoped was a sexy smile, and began a hip-swaying dance again. He noticed Akira sitting back down . . . good, maybe he could get them both back in the mood.

He knew just what to do, also . . . the very thing that had been on his mind since seeing that particular room.

Hikaru climbed down from the stage, restraining himself from wincing at his still-sore leg. He made his way slowly down to where his lover was sitting. "Pull back from the table," he said in what he hoped was a seductive tone of voice. "I want to give you a *private* dance."

Akira pulled his chair out and turned it around. "It was pretty private before," he said.

"Not as much as this." Hikaru sat gently in his lover's lap, leaning back so his shoulders were touching Akira's. Slowly, he began to move his hips, making a circular motion, rubbing his bottom against Akira's erection. Hikaru smiled to himself when he felt the hardness -- oh, yes, his dance had an effect on his lover.

*Well,* he thought, *I'll just have to make him even harder.*

He leaned forward and began to push his hips up and down, so his bottom slid toward Akira's stomach, then down to his thighs. He made a small noise in his throat . . . he could feel the friction of the cloth on his uncovered bottom, his lover's erection pressing between his cheeks.

"Mmmmm," Akira said, feeling a slow warmth steal over his body, raising his hips, wrapping his arms around Hikaru. "Faster . . . please."

Hikaru began to roll his hips in a figure eight, leaning back again, raising his arms over his head, mutely begging Akira to touch his nipples. Heped ped when he took the hint, his hands moving slowly up and down Hikaru's torso, then finding the hardening buds, squeezing them lightly, then brushing them with his thumbs.

Hikaru let out a deep moan, leaning his head back so it was resting on Akira's shoulder as he pressed his hips down harder, creating more friction. Akira responded by swirling his thumbs over the nipples, then pinching gently, then brushing his fingers over them rapidly.

"Ohhh," Akira gasped, panting. "This feels so good. . ." His own body was writhing along with Hikaru's, feeling like it was going to burst into flame, like the fabric that encased it was a prison. He wanted out of it so bad, he wanted to feel his skin against the other boy's.

Hikaru eased away from Akira and stood up, a sly smile on his face. "Want it to feel even better?" he said.

Akira gasped, reaching up for his own buttons. "Yes . . . gods, yes . . ."

"I thought you'd want to do that," Hikaru said, swiftly unbuttoning Akira's shirt and pushing it away. He ran his hands up and down the other boy's torso, and Akira gasped at the contact, letting out a small moan.

One hand wandered lower, and lower still. "Oh, what is this?" Hikaru said, caressing the hard bulge. Akira let out a cry. "Hmm, I guess this means we'll have to get rid of these, too. . ."

Hikaru reached for the zipper, undoing the button and starting to pull it down . . . then pushing it back up again . . . then pulling it down. Akira bit down hard on his lip to keep from whimpering. He wanted Hikaru to get back in his lap, to writhe on him again . . . or get on his knees and wrap his lips around that thing that was hard and hot and aching . . . or just do *something* with his hands or mouth or *any* part of his body . . .

The pants were yanked down and off, followed by the underwear. Hikaru straddled Akira, lowering himself so he was sitting facing him, and pushed his pelvis forward. Both boys moaned at the contact as their manhoods met, separated by a thin layer of satin.

Hikaru threw his arms around Akira's shoulders and started to pump his hips rapidly, throwing his head back and moaning, feeling the contact of flesh on flesh, his nipples brushing over Akira's chest, his thighs clutching at his hips. The satin G-string was exquisite torture, covering *just enough* to separate them, but feeling like an impenetrable barrier.

Akira's hands reached around his lover's body and grasped his bottom, squeezing it hard, kneading it, rubbing it. He kissed every part of Hikaru his lips could reach . . . neck, chin, chest, shoulders . . . then just rubbed his cheek against him, his dark hair in wild disarray, falling softly into his tightly-closed eyes and over his flushed face.

The pounding music which still blared over the sound system was nearly drowned out by the sound of panting, moaning, gasps . . . Hikaru moved against Akira in a slow grind, moving his hips in a wide figure eight, then rapid, short thursts, then an up-and-down motion.

As he stretched his whole body upward, Akira was able to catch a nipple in his lips, fluttering his tongue over it, then sucking hard, once, twice, three times. He pulled his lips away just long enough to lick it again, then returned to sucking, then licking again.

Hikaru nearly wailed. The heat, the wetness, the friction, the damn satin, the feel of Akira's hardness pressing on him again and again and again . . . He was sure he was going to explode, burst into a huge ball of flame.

Akira eased his mouth away, and Hikaru pulled away from him, somehow managing to stand up -- his legs felt like they were made of rubber. He pushed the G-string down and off . . . *oh, gods, how I need to be out of this thing,* he thought, amazed that he still had the power of coherent thought at all.

He sat in Akira's lap facing away again, making sure that the other boy's erection was between his cheeks so that they cupped it. He started to move his hips again with a rapid pace.

Akira gasped . . . ohh, this was amazing, the *heat* of Hikaru enclosing him, yet without the tight feel of being inside . . . so close, yet so far, just making what Hikaru was doing all the more tantalizing. He leaned back, his hair softly brushing the chair top, his lips parted and gasping.

He had to give this pleasure back.

One hand reached around the boy's body again, found what is was seeking, grasped and started to stroke. Now Hikaru let out a full-throated cry, his eyes flying open in surprise, then fluttering closed again in pleasure as Akira's fingers worked him, moving down to the base and squeezing ever-so-gently, then up along the shaft, pausing at the head, moving in rapid, circular motions.

Hikaru began moving his hips faster, moaning, "Aaaahhh . . . keep going, sooo good . . ."

"Hikaru," Akira gasped in a low, throaty voice, stroking him with a rapid up-and-down movement now, moaning as slow pluses of heat shot through him, radiating from his manhood to the very tips of his fingers and toes. He moved his hips with Hikaru's every thrust, thinking, *just a little more, please, please just a little more is all I need.*

Hikaru covered Akira's hand with his, as if he could push it to go faster, to send him hurtling over the edge into the sweet abyss. Then, suddenly, his whole body froze, and he gave out a loud, shuddering cry as he arched upward, like a graceful dolphin arcing out of the water, bursts of hot delight consuming him over and over.

He sagged down onto Akira's lap, panting . . . and felt the hardness against his bottom. Akira hadn't reached fulfillment yet. Quickly, Hikaru wriggled back into the position he was in before, making sure his cheeks were cupping him again, and started thrusting rapidly.

Akira gripped Hikaru by the hips, moving against him, feeling like it would never happen, that he would never . . . But then, there was a split second when time stood still, followed by wave after wave of a luscious, all-consuming fire.

Hikaru heard his lover's husky cry, felt the warm wetness of his seed in his cleft, and sagged back against him, turning his head so they could kiss. Their lips met, warm and sweet. Hikaru turned so he could throw his arms around Akira and snuggle with his head on his chest.

Akira kissed the top of Hikaru's head. "Gods, Hikaru . . . that was . . ."

"Mmmm," Hikaru purred. "I thought you'd like it."

"Where did you find that G-string?"

Hikaru raised his head and an arm, and pointed to the other side of the room. Akira followed with his eyes, and saw what looked like a tie rack next to the refrigerator. Only instead of ties, it was covered with G-strings in various sizes, all the same black satin as Hikaru's.

"It comes with the room," Hikaru said. "It was in the room description. As soon as I saw the picture of the strip club room, I knew that's what I wanted to do for you."

"I wouldn't have picked this room," Akira said. "But . . ."

Hikaru looked up at Akira. "But?"

"I'm very glad you did."

Hikaru yawned, and eased away from Akira. "I'm going to lie down for a few minutes . . . want to join me?"

Akira had to admit that a short nap sounded like a good idea. After all, they'd just had quite a workout.

The boys climbed onto the bed, which was covered in black satin. "At least it's not animal print," Akira said, sliding under the covers.

"Why?" said Hikaru. "Wouldn't you have liked that?"

Akira yawned. "Would be like making love in a fur coat factory."

As Hikaru snuggled up to his lover, he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't picked the safari room.

* * *

About an hour later, Akira woke up.

Hikaru was still asleep beside him, lying on his side, one arm thrown above his head. He wasn't snoring at the moment . . . Akira had found out quickly that his lover had a disturbing tendency to suddenly start making freight-train noises in the middle of the night.

In addition to lubricant, Akira now had a supply of earplugs hidden away at the very back of his nighttable drawer.

He got out of the bed and took another good look around the room. He could now see Hikaru's clothing tossed in a heap next to the G-string rack. The boy must have torn them off in a hurry, grabbed a pair of the scandalously small underwear and found the kimono . . . he saw a hook on the wall above the G-string rack, which is where it must have been hanging.

Akira's eyes wandered toward the small refrigerator. Curious, he opened the door and peered inside. There were a few small bottles of sparkling wine, several cans of various sodas, and a tray of some sort with a plastic cover.

He removed the tray, pulled off the lid . . . and saw a dozen or so big, luscious-looking strawberries.

Looking back in the fridge, he saw that there was a bottle of chocolate syrup at the back, behind where the strawberries had been.

He pulled it out, just as he heard Hikaru give a big yawn. A smile began to steal over the young genius' face. He was starting to get ideas.

Akira carried the container and tray over to the bed. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," Hikaru replied, sitting up cross-legged. "What do you have there?"

Akira sat on the bed beside him and gave him a soft kiss. "Are you hungry?"

Hikaru smiled. "Hungry for what?"

Akira took a strawberry from the tray, put a dab of chocolate on it and held it out toward Hikaru. The boy bit into it, eagerly, locking his eyes with Akira's. He chewed and swallowed, and then bit the remainder of the fruit to the stem. His tongue flicked out, lapping at Akira's fingers teasingly.

"So are you hungry, too?" Hikaru said, leaning over to pick up another strawberry. He poured the chocolate over it, a little getting on his fingers, and held it out. Akira licked at the fruit a bit beforeing ing it.

When he swallowed, he grasped Hikaru's hand, his tongue coming out to slide along the stray drops of chocolate, rubbing slowly back and forth over the skin. Hikaru let out a sensual gasp, and gasped again as Akira slid the whole finger in his mouth, beginning to suck slowly. He moved it in and out a couple of times before sliding it out all the way, then laying a kiss on the very tip.

Akira then reached for the bottle of chocolate, pouring a generous amount on his fingers. He dabbed them on Hikaru's lips, and leaned over, swiftly licking at it, sliding his tongue into his mouth, then out, then in again, coming out to flick back and forth until every trace of chocolate was gone.

Their lips came together after that, Hikaru's tongue pushing into Akira's mouth, their arms wrapping around each other as Hikaru thurst eagerly in and out. His hands slid up and down his lover's back, caressing the flesh, stroking, massaging.

Hikaru eased away, a mischievous smile crossing his face. He reached for the strawberries and chocolate again, opening and pouring. He leaned over and kissed Akira again, tipping his lover backward until he was lying on his back.

Then, he reached down to his nipples, using the strawberry as a paintbrush to stroke chocolate over the right one, moving in a rapid circle, then stroking back and forth. He moved it to the left nipple and began to brush it up and down, back and forth.

Akira let out a sharp cry, arching upward, and he cried out again as Hikaru bent over, licking at the sweet stuff, his tongue hot and wet against the coolness of the syrup. His lips brushed lightly at the hardened bud, then he licked again, then planted several rapid kisses.

He moaned his lover's name in a husky voice as he moved to the other side, immediately beginning a rapid sucking, then raising his head to blow hot breath over it.

"I love how you sound right now," Hikaru whispered, before kissing the nipple lightly. "The way you're panting and moaning . . . so sexy . . ."

"So good," Akira groaned. "What you're doing to me, it feels so good . . ."

Hikaru took the bottle and put it in Akira's hand. "Go on . . . do something to me now."

They switched positions, so Hikaru was lying down and Akira sitting above him. Akira took the bottle, positioned it right over his lover's erection and squeezed. The chocolate flowed over and down the hardened member, looking almost like a particularly delicious sundae.

"Mmmm," Akia said, leaning over so he could lick up one side of Hikaru, moving his tongue back and forth in a zigzag motion. When he reached the top, he began to lick in a spiral, like a child eating a cone.

"Aaaahh," Hikaru cried, one hand frantically clutching at the sheets, the other reaching down to tangle in Akira's thick hair. He raised his hips, trying to push himself all the way into his lover's mouth, mutely begging for more.

Akira kissed quickly up and down his hardness, then started a slow bottom-to-top lick again, one finger caressing the sac beneath. When he reached the summit, he took as much as he could handle in his mouth and began to suck, letting out a long, low groan as he moved his head up and down.

"Ohhh, yes!" Hikaru shouted, moving his hips faster. Warm pleasure was flooding through him in waves, starting to build, growing more intense as Akira began sucking in rapid little draws.

He didn't want to come like this. He wanted to keep going for as long as both of them could stand it. He pushed gently up on Akira's head. "Not yet," he gasped. "Let me do you . . ."

Akira raised his head, then sat up, slowly. "Was it . . ."

"No, it was good, too good," Hikaru said, taking the chocolate from Akira. "It's just that I want to do this to you, and then I want you to take me."

It was an offer Akira was not about to refuse. He lay back again, and Hikaru poured chocolate on his erection. He took it in and started sucking right away, reaching up with his hands, his fingers seeking Akira's nipples. When he found them, he started to stroke them rapidly, making his lover arch upward and give a hoarse cry.

Hikaru slowly drew Akira out while sucking hard, then swirled his tongue over the head, then put him back in again. He took him as deep as he could, sucked in a few long, hard draws, then pulled him almost all the way out again, his mouth gently tugging at the head.

"Hi . . . Hikaru," Akira moaned. "If you want me to take you, then . . ."

Hikaru raised his head. "Hmmm, I wish men could come three or four times during sex," he said. "I want to make you come like this, and then have you take me, and then I would take you."

"We'd both be exhausted," Akira said, reaching for one of the small tubes of lubricant on the nighttable.

"But it would be worth it," Hikaru replied, lying back, spreading his legs and raising his hips in anticipation.

Akira coated a finger and gently began to massage Hikaru's opening until it let him push in, bit by bit. Hikaru tensed at the small pain, then moaned in pleasure as Akira began to move it in and out.

"Do you like how this feels?" Akira said, pushing in a bit deeper.

Hikaru let out a small gasp. "Yes . . . more . . ."

Akira slid the finger out, wiped it off (and how convenient of the hotel to put several small towels on the nighttable) and relubed it, along with a second. He gently pushed into Hikaru again, and felt the boy tense, then relax. He moved in and out slowly, gradually getting faster and deeper, feeling the tight hotness around the fingers, thinking about how it would feel around something else.

"Ready?" he said, sliding them out again.

Hikaru spread his legs wider. "Yes."

Akira squeezed more lube out and rubbed it over his manhood, then put some at Hikaru's entrance. He moved over the boy, grasping his legs, beginning to push in by degrees.

Oh, it felt good. Hot and soft and tight, enveloping him, pulling him in . . . every time he was inside Hikaru, he could hardly believe the sensations it caused. And with everything they were doing before, the sensations seemed twice as sweet, twice as hot.

Hikaru gritted his teeth at the initial pain, then moaned as it merged with, then changed to a honeyed pleasure. He started to raise his hips as Akira thrust into him, wanting to feel him deeper and deeper.

Akira grasped his hips, pushing in faster . . . the pleasure inside him was growing rapidly, swelling like water pushing against a dam, he didn't know how much longer he could hold on.

Then, Hikaru tightened the muscles inside him a bit, and that did it. Akira suddenly let out a loud cry as pulses of hot ecstasy shot through him, one after another, until he collapsed atop Hikaru, limp.

Hikaru just lay there, stunned. What had just happened? Akira had barely gotten in, there had just been a few thrusts . . . and then, he came! And Hikaru was left hard and unfulfilled.

It was a few hazy seconds before what had just happened dawned on Akira. The sweet afterglow was suddenly tainted with sour emotions -- guilt, shame, confusion.

He raised his head and looked at Hikaru. The boy was still erect, and didn't look happy.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what happened."

"I don't know either!" Hikaru said, sounding a bit angry. "It was great, and then . . ."

"It's not as if I had any control over it!" Akira said. "I couldn't hold it back! It just happened!"

"Couldn't control it?"

Akira let out a deep sigh. He knew he had to make it up to Hikaru, and fast . . . or this was going to turn into a fight that would ruin the whole afternoon.

"Lie back down," he said, leaning over to kiss Hikaru's lips lightly. Hikaru frowned a bit, but did as Akira asked.

Akira moved down to his erection. Rather than take it in his mouth again, he put a little bit of lube on his hand and just grasped it, starting to stroke it with a gentle up-and-down motion.

"I love looking at you when you're like this," he told Hikaru in a soft voice. "You don't know how beautiful you are."

Hikaru purred with pleasure . . . Akira's stroking was making the fires of passion within him flare to new life. He began to stretch his body, writhing a little as the luscious sensations filled him.

"I look at you when you take your clo off off," Akira said, as he began to stroke a little faster. "I look at your whole body . . . your chest, your arms, and oh, gods, when you bend over . . . I can't take my eyes off your bottom. So gorgeous . . . I look at it and I want to feel my hands all over it."

"Yes," Hikaru gasped, writhing faster, one hand reaching up to stroke his own nipple. "Keep talking . . ."

"I look at you," Akira whispered, leaning over to kiss the head of Hikaru's erection as his hand continued a rapid up-and-down stroke, "and I want to touch you. I want to feel your skin against mine. I want to taste you . . ." His tongue quickly swirled around the tip, and Hikaru let out a small cry.

"I want to hear you make noises like that," Akira said in a husky voice. "I want to make you moan and pant. I want you to cry my name out."

He leaned over, still stroking him, and licked slowly up and down his sacs, rolling his tongue over them again and again. He was rewarded with Hikaru crying his name, just as he'd just said.

"Yes," Akira whispered. "Like that. Are you close, Hikaru? Do you feel like you're going to come soon?"

Hikaru gasped. "Yes!"

Akira moved down to Hikaru's inner thigh and began to lay a rapid line of small kisses up and down it, stopping here and there to nibble. Hikaru groaned loudly.

"All right," Akira said. "Just relax . . . relax and let it happen . . ."

He stroked faster, kissing his thigh again, and Hikaru felt the world seem to freeze in its tracks . . . and then it exploded in a blast of liquid heat that made him raise his hips all the way off the bed, shouting Akira's name.

When he collapsed, his whole body was still shivering with small aftershocks. Dimly, he was aware of Akirndernderly cleaning him off, then leaning over and kissing him. Hikaru kissed back, eagerly, wrapping his arms around him.

"Wow," was all he could say.

Akira kissed his neck. "The whole afternoon has been like that. I don't want to leave here."

"I don't, either," Hikaru said. "I'm so glad we came here."

"We can come back, you know," Akira said. "Not all the time, but . . . once in awhile."

"Mmmm," Hikaru said, leaning his head against Akira's shoulder. "I'd like it."

They just stayed there, holding each other, for a long moment. They knew they'd have to take a quick shower and then leave, so that the staff could get this room ready for the next couple.

*The next *lucky* couple,* Hikaru thought. He decided he liked love hotels. Oh, yes, he liked them very much.

* * *

The boys made their way out onto the porch, holding hands in what they hoped was a discreet way, with their clasped hands hidden at the back of their bodies. The sun was just going down, painting the sky with an array of pinks and oranges. It seemed to match their mood.

Both boys were so deep in thought, in reliving what they had just shared, that they didn't notice they were getting too near to the person in front of them until after bodies hit body with a jolting thump. Akira took a quick step back, bowing low. "I'm sorry . . ."

The person they'd run into turned around with a sneer on his face. "You again?"

Akira's eyes went wide. It was the naked guy from the hall! Well, he was wearing clothes now, but still . . .

"We were just leaving," Akira said, quickly, tugging on Hikaru's hand. "Good day." And he led his lover rapidly back down the walk.

"Who was that?" Hikaru said.

"Just someone I ran into before," Akira said, walking quickly. "Want to go somewhere for dinner?"

"Hmm," said Hikaru. "Yes. You pick."

Akira was startled. *He must have really enjoyed what happened here,* he thought, *if he's thinking about something other than ramen!*

But Hikaru's thoughts were far from food. He'd caught a glimpse of one of the other rooms as they were leaving, one that hadn't been lit up when they came in. And he knew exactly what he wanted to do the next time they came there.

*Who would have thought*, he said to himself, *that a love hotel would have a bed that looks like a giant goban?*

AUTHOR’S NOTES

This story was written for two challenges: one on the Sweetlemon ML on Yahoogroups to come up with a story revolving around a love hotel, and one for HikaGoYaoi.org to come up with Akira-centric fics in celebraton of his birthday (December 14).

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.
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