#demononwheels

“Taejo!” Speed’s voice is hoarse, filled with panic and exhaustion. As if from a great distance, he hears the whistle of shuriken and his hands fly up instinctively to protect his vitals, but he stops them before they can reach their destination, redirecting the effort to grasping his friend on either side of his similarly battered face.

“Hey—hey! No—come on—no! You’re okay! We’re okay!” There is more hope than knowledge or reassurance in his voice.

“Much of you is unique, but your name is carried out in what you do, who you are when you find yourself in the heart of the race. An intensity, a concentration. 바퀴에 악마. “Devil on Wheels”, or perhaps “Demon”, for the Americans who are faint of heart.” At that his eyes sparkle, catching Speed’s gaze if only to deliver him this bit of humor in an exchange of many starts and stops, a hesitancy that just doesn’t exist for the leading man of East Asia’s racing circuit, one would think.

“For me? I think I’d like to call you friend, if that would be alright.

His heart flutters, as it always does when Taejo compliments him. The man is not free with compliments. Speed knows this is because of his family, his father in particular, as they have spoken many times.... intimately on the subject of family. Taejo has become close with the Racer family, himself and it is that which has prompted the openness. Speed never pushes or pries, nor does the rest of his beloved family, but there is something in him that makes people want to open up.

This is one of those cases. It isn't a display, in front of thousands of cameras and microphones. They aren't their track personas. Speed and Taejo, at this moment, are just a couple of young men enjoying the other's company. He reaches and grasps Taejo's hand and squeezes.

"Call me whatever you want," he says, his smile becoming mischievous, "just don't call me late for dinner."

“I feel the need…” One hand raised, that cool countenance cracked and there emerged an amused grin.

“The need…for Speed.”

The moment the first half of the phrase left Taejo's mouth, the moment his hand rose, Speed mimicked the action, grinning wide, a flush high in his cheeks. Thousands of flashes from every kind of camera sparkled like diamonds all around them, all eyes on the pair, daring to interpret what might or might not have been between them.

"The need for speed!” Their hands met above their heads, somewhere between them and the cameras continued going off. One of them was quoting a film, the other... Well, that was up for debate. The tabloids would have a field day. 

9. [handsy] - Our muses make out and fumble with one another whilst fully clothed.

It isn’t their first time alone together. Speed has joined Taejo many times, to dinner, on the track, even to the man’s private, personal gym. That last one had been almost overwhelming for the young up-and-comer, though he had handled it with as much grace as he could manage. Mom had taught him well, after all.

This time was different, for some reason. They were alone again, far from media scrutiny, but this time not in a club or concert, not a restaurant, shop, or boutique. Parked a few feet away, the Togokhan heir has consented to be driven about in Speed’s famous ride, the Mach 5. The two young men, the so-called Darling Rivals of the combat racing circuit, are lying on a picnic blanket, the basket nearby evidence of their snacking.

As of now, the food holds no interest for them, however. They have become suddenly entangled, the light of the setting sun falling upon grasping hands, groping digits, and parted lips, only the sky a witness to the symphony of gentle offerings lifted up to it. Taejo is careful, more careful than he has ever been with another human being, taking each step with mindfulness and something approaching awe.

That he should be allowed to touch someone like this… He feels unworthy, even as Speed pulls him closer and whispers words of pleading encouragement. He realizes he could not disengage if he tried—not unless his companion asked him to stop. He is too smitten, in too deep, by half, if truth be told. Somehow, it is more thrilling and dangerous than any time spent serving the cartels.

There are moments when the paparazzi displays a rare moment of restraint and this is clearly one of those. Something about Speed Racer makes them less inclined to go for the jugular, so to speak, but more because there is no jugular to sever in this case. He is wholesome, for lack of a better term, as is his whole family. Outside the stain of his brother’s iniquities, the Racer clan is squeaky clean and now, with new evidence surfacing after the 91stPrix, even Rex Racer’s sins are close to exoneration.

"I just have the one..." His brows knit as he gestures to and looks down at himself, the equation not quite completing itself until he's already spoken. "Oh...OH! I've never... I'm not... I haven't killed anyone, if that's what you mean."

"He's my friend, sure," Speed says, shrugging as if this is obvious, as if it is totally normal to befriend Taejo "I don't need friends they disappoint me" Togokhan whilst also being competitors on the track. "When you race in the majors, the roster's a lot smaller; you get to know people. It's... kinda nice actually. Like having more family."