Rating:

Not Rated

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Heated Rivalry (TV)

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Ilya Rozanov

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Rose Landry, Hayden Pike

Additional Tags:

Rivals to Lovers, Bottom Shane Hollander, Top Ilya Rozanov, street racer, Teasing, Car Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Sex in a Car, Semi-Public Sex, Public Sex, Cocky Ilya Rozanov, Banter, Ilya Rozanov is Obsessed With Shane Hollander, Sub Shane Hollander, Dom Ilya Rozanov, Public Blow Jobs

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-28 Words: 4,448 Chapters: 1/1

finish line, back seat and no regrets

Summary

Shane has always hated Ilya. Always. From the first time he saw him leaning against a car like he owned the street, talking too loud, smiling too easily….and Ilya just knows how to tick him off— like it’s second nature, like he can tell exactly what gets under Shane’s skin and leans into it every single time.

It doesn’t matter where they are, or what’s going on, Ilya finds a way to make it about him and Shane ends up pissed off before he even says a word.

Shane huffed as his phone lit up with vibration. He grabbed the phone off the charger. The screen lit up again, he glanced down at an unfamiliar number.

Unknown: don’t ask how I got you number but I’m bored come race me if you’re not too scared to get beat again Hollander 😉

Notes

Shane has always hated Ilya. Always. From the first time he saw him leaning against a car like he owned the street, talking too loud, smiling too easily….and Ilya just knows how to tick him off— like it’s second nature, like he can tell exactly what gets under Shane’s skin and leans into it every single time. It doesn’t matter where they are, or what’s going on, Ilya finds a way to make it about him and Shane ends up pissed off before he even says a word.

Shane huffed as his phone lit up with vibration. He grabbed the phone off the charger. The screen lit up again, he glanced down at an unfamiliar number. 

Unknown: don’t ask how I got you number but I’m bored come race me if you’re not too scared to get beat again Hollander 😉

Shane groans, slamming his phone down into the mattress. This was exactly the problem—ilya, his sarcasm, and the way he always knew how to get under Shane’s skin without even trying. Or maybe he did try. That was the worst part. Shane picks the phone back up, thumb hovering over the screen for a second too long before he gives in.

Shane: no… it’s late

Unknown: oh come on Hollander, I wanna race you. don’t be a chicken.

Shane: I am not a chicken. and fine.

Unknown: good. Finally, you’re not boring.

Shane: fuck you, Roz.

Unknown: maybe if you win tonight!!! 😏

Shane shook his head and grabbed a pair of sweatpants, throwing them on, followed by a hoodie he tugged over his head. His phone vibrated again. He groaned while pulling on his shoes, ignoring it at first—but it kept going. Constant. Relentless.

Finally, he looked.

Of course. Ilya had already posted about the race.

@ilyarozanov: racing hollander tonight come join if you want to see me beat him 😉

Replies 1,200 • Retweets 2,600 • Quotes 3,400 • Likes 123K • Views 130K

@fan1: my money is on Ilya

@hollanderace replying to @fan1: Shane is definitely beating Ilya… have you seen him race?

@ilyatires replying to @hollanderace: obviously I have. seen him get beat by Ilya. stop being delusional.

@hollandercar replying to @ilyatires: you do know Rozanov cheated right????

@ilyacurves replying to @hollandercar: y’all just be saying anything. hollander isn’t built for street racing, stop being delusional. 

Shane shoved his phone into his pocket, jaw tight as he read the comments anyway. God, he hated how much Ilya got under his skin—and even more than that, how his stupid fanbase did too.

He drove straight to the meet spot already irritated, the city lights blurring past as he tried to shake it off. He knew what tonight was. Not just a race. A point to prove.

When he arrived, the crowd was already packed in. Cars lined up, engines rumbling, voices loud with anticipation. And right in the middle of it all—of course—Ilya.

Shane parked, stepped out, and immediately locked eyes with him. Ilya was already smirking.

“Hope you’re not nervous,” Ilya teased.

“Fuck you, Roz,” Shane shot back instantly.

Ilya only chuckled, pushing off his car and stepping closer. “I told you,” he said low, voice taunting, “if you win tonight, maybe I’ll give you what you want.” He tilted his head, eyes dragging over Shane like he was already winning something else entirely.

Shane scoffed. “And what exactly do you think I want from you?”

Ilya leaned in just slightly. “I think you know.”

His voice dropped. “I’ve got nine inches waiting for you at the finish line.”

Shane’s throat tightened for half a second before he masked it, scoffing like it meant nothing. “Dude, you wish.”

The horn blared before Ilya could answer.

The crowd erupted, chanting rising fast.

“Shane!”

Shane glanced toward the voice, spotting Rose in the crowd along with Hayden. She gave him a quick nod, a small smile on her face.

“Good luck!” she called.

Shane lifted his chin slightly in acknowledgment, but before he could say anything—

“Or maybe,” Ilya cut in, loud enough for both of them to hear, stepping closer with that same smug grin, “I could fuck you both.”

The crowd went wild.

Shane froze for half a second, jaw tightening as he turned back to him, heat rising straight to his face.

Yeah.

Tonight was already going to be a problem.

~~~

The cars lined up, engines loud, the street buzzing around them. Shane gripped the wheel tighter, eyes straight ahead, blocking everything else out. Then he heard Ilya’s engine rev next to him. Of course he was right there. “Try to keep up, Hollander,” Ilya called out, voice way too amused.

Shane rolled his eyes, jaw tight. “Just drive.” The horn blasted. They took off instantly, tires screeching as both cars shot forward. Shane didn’t hesitate, shifting fast, pushing the speed higher as the street blurred around him.

The first turn came quickly. Shane drifted smoothly, controlled, perfectly—Ilya stayed right on him.

“Yeah,” Ilya’s voice came through, teasing, like he was enjoying this way too much, “that’s nice… keep moving like that.”

Shane ignored him, focusing on the road, hitting the next turn harder….but Ilya didn’t fall back. He stayed right there. Close. Too close.

“Don’t mess up now,” Ilya added, laughing under his breath, “wouldn’t want you losing after all that attitude.”

Shane clenched his jaw, pushing faster, tires burning as he drifted another corner….but, Ilya was still right there.

“Finish line’s coming,” Ilya said, voice lower now, more focused, “you better win… or I’m not letting you forget it.”

Shane didn’t answer. He just drove faster. The street blurred around him, lights flashing past as Shane pushed the car harder, foot pressing down like he had something to prove because he did. The next turn came fast. Shane didn’t slow down. He drifted it clean, sharp, perfectly and still Ilya was right there. Right next to him.

“Damn,” Ilya’s voice came again, way too calm for how fast they were going, “you look real good like this.”

Shane exhaled sharply, tightening his grip on the wheel. “Shut up and drive.”

Ilya laughed…actually…laughed.

“Oh, I am,” he said, engine roaring as he matched Shane’s speed, inching just a little closer, “just thinking about what happens when I win.”

Shane pushed faster.

“I’m not losing to you,” he shot back, barely sparing him a glance.

“You say that every time,” Ilya replied, like he wasn’t even trying, like this was easy, “and you still show up.”

Another turn, tighter…More dangerous….both of them drifted at the same time, cars sliding perfectly in sync for a second that felt way too long.

Too close. “Careful,” Ilya added, voice dropping just enough, “you’re getting distracted.”

“I’m not—”

“Yeah, you’re .” Ilya cuts in…The finish line was coming up. The crowd was louder now, voices bleeding into the night. Shane pushed the car to its limit, engine screaming, eyes locked ahead.

Next to him—Ilya grinned. “C’mon,” hollander,” he said, like a challenge, like a promise, “don’t choke now.” The finish line got closer, the noise got louder, everything tightening at once. Shane pushed harder, shifting fast, refusing to ease up even a little. Not now. Not when it mattered.

Ilya stayed right there. Of course he did.

“Yeah,” Ilya’s voice came through, calm like he wasn’t even trying, “that’s it. Don’t slow down on me now.”

Shane’s jaw clenched. “Stop fucking talking!!!.”

Ilya laughed under his breath. “Oh hollander, you’re getting pissed.” One last turn came up fast. Shane took it sharp, drifting clean, tires screeching as the car slid perfectly through—

But Ilya was still there, still matching him. Still right next to him. “Last stretch,” Ilya said, voice lower now, focused but still teasing, “see you at the finish line hollander.”

Shane pushed everything into it. His tires screeched, his hands tight on the wheel. The crowd noise exploding in the distance. Side by side. Neither of them gave an inch.

“Come on,” Ilya said, almost like he was enjoying it too much, “you’re really gonna lose to me again?”

Shane didn’t answer. He couldn’t. They hit the final stretch….and then—Ilya surged. Just a little. Just enough. His car edged forward, nose pulling ahead by inches. Shane pushed harder, but it was already done. Ilya crossed the line first. The crowd went wild. Silence hit Shane for half a second as he rolled to a stop, engine still running, chest rising fast.

Next to him, Ilya slowed too. Then stepped out of his car like he hadn’t just done something impossible. He leaned back against it, looking over at Shane. That same stupid grin. Like he knew exactly what was coming next.

“Guess I win,” Ilya said simply.

~~~

Shane finally gets out of the car slamming the door. The crowd is still chanting Ilya’s name. He hated himself for getting distracted by Ilya, Ilya knew exactly what to say to tick Shane off. Maybe Ilya’s fans were right, maybe he wasn’t built for street racing anymore.  He’s been street racing most of his teenage life, he was even named the best street racer. No one ever beat him before, that’s until Ilya Rozanov came along. The first two street races, Shane won, but after that, Ilya seemed to find a way to get under skin just to distract him from winning. 

“So, where do you want me, hollander, your car or mine?” Ilya asked, with a  devilish smile on his face. 

“You’re such an asshole!” Shane scoffed, the crowd started to fade-out getting their money for betting on the race, the majority of the crowd went for Ilya. 

Ilya stepped forward, Shane’s chest tightened. “I think maybe you like me being an asshole…it turns you on, doesn’t it?” Ilya whispered, his tongue gazing at the tip of Shane’s earlobe. 

Shane’s breath hitched, he wasn’t going to give in, he wasn’t going to let Ilya win this game, but he knew his body was going to betray him. Shane swallowed hard, forcing himself to take a step back even though Ilya was still too close. Too warm. Too confident.

“Get out of my space,” he said, but his voice came out tighter than he meant it to. Ilya didn’t move….Instead, he just smiled like he was entertained.

“Your space?” he repeated slowly, glancing around them like the idea was funny. Like the whole street belonged to him now. “You mean the space I just beat you in?”

Shane scoffed immediately. “You got lucky.” That made Ilya laugh for real this time, head tipping back slightly like Shane had just said something ridiculous.

“Lucky?” Ilya echoed, stepping in again like he had no concept of distance. “Shane, I was ahead of you before the last turn.”

Shane’s jaw tightened. “Doesn’t mean anything.” Ilya’s smile softened just a little, but it only made him more annoying. More confident.

“No,” he said, quieter now, “it means I know exactly when you’re going to slip.”

That hit something…Shane’s eyes flicked to him. “I didn’t slip.”

Ilya hummed like he didn’t believe him.

“You did,” he said simply. “Just for a second.”

A pause—Then Ilya tilted his head, studying him like he was figuring him out all over again.

“And that’s all I needed.” Shane scoffed, taking another step back, trying to reset the distance between them. “You’re so full of yourself it’s insane.”

Ilya followed him instantly. Still close…Still not giving him space.

“Maybe,” Ilya said, shrugging like it didn’t matter, “but I still won.”

That shut Shane up for half a second. The crowd noise around them blurred again—cheers, shouting, money changing hands, engines still cooling down—but it all felt distant compared to Ilya standing right there, looking at him like this wasn’t even over yet. Shane forced himself to look away for a second, dragging a hand through his hair.

“I didn’t lose because of you,” he said again, but it sounded less certain now. Ilya’s eyes flicked over him.

“No?” he asked.

Shane shook his head once. “No.” Ilya stepped in closer again anyway, voice dropping just slightly.

“You were watching me,” he said. “Not the road.”

Shane’s eyes snapped back to him. “Shut up.”

But Ilya didn’t.

He never did.

“You always do,” he continued, almost conversational now, like they were talking about something normal. “Even when you’re winning. Even when you’re ahead. You still look.”

Shane’s throat tightened.

“That’s not true.”

Ilya smiled again—slow, knowing.

“It is,” he said. “You just don’t like hearing it.” Shane let out a sharp breath, stepping forward this time instead of back, trying to reclaim control of the moment.

“I don’t think about you at all,” he said flatly.

There was a beat…just one. Ilya blinked slowly. Then he laughed under his breath, like he genuinely didn’t believe him for a second.

“Yeah,” he said, voice lighter now but still cutting, “okay.” He leaned in slightly again, just enough to make Shane’s focus break for half a second.

“Keep telling yourself that, hollander.”

And then, like he wasn’t done, like he never was—

“You’re a really bad liar, when you’re still breathing like that.” Ilya muttered and Shane knew that he was, but he wasn’t going to admit that. 

“Go home Roz, the race is over, you won.” Shane sighed, already done with whatever game Ilya was trying to play. 

“I didn’t get my prize yet, hollander….” Ilya teased some more, his fingers grazing against Shane’s neck. Shane felt his body shiver. 

“Your body is telling on you, your body is betraying you…..just from me being close, just from the touch of my fingers on your neck.” Shane wasn’t sure anymore if he could get himself out of this, there were no more excuses he could give. He knew what his body wanted and what his body craved for. 

“R-Roz.” Shane lets out and fuck….he regrets it, the moment he opened his eyes, that stupid smile was plastered on Ilya’s face. 

“hollander.” Ilya says, in a lower voice. 

“Please stop.” 

“Is that what you want?” Ilya asked, already knowing the answer. 

“I-I.” Shane couldn’t find anything to say. 

“Sshhh, come.” Shane finally gave in, he followed Ilya to his car that was still parked at the finish line. Shane knew then now, this was no longer a game. Ilya opens the backseat of his car, he lets Shane climb in first. 

“You know hollander, I always imagined fucking you in the back seat of my car at the finish line. Your head against the window as I pound into you. Where the city lights glow on your skin.” Shane lets out a whimper, feeling betrayed just by the way Ilya is talking. 

“Tell me you want me to stop.” Ilya says, fingers gliding down Shane’s arm. Shane shakes his head, unable to form any words. 

“I need to hear you.” Ilya muttered.

“P-Please don’t.” And in that moment, Shane was fucked. He was so far gone, and there was no coming back from this. Ilya smirked, he pulled his shirt over his head, Shane pulled off his hoodie…Ilya leaned down, planting kisses on Shane’s neck. Shane lets a moan slip out. 

~~~

The car windows was rolled up, Shane let Ilya explore his body. They were fully naked down in their boxes. Ilya kissed between Shane’s thigh, squeezing it, leaving a print. 

“F-Fuck.” Shane moans, feeling his cock grow hard inside of his boxes. Ilya looked up at Shane, his brown dough eyes were dilated. 

“Can I?” Ilya asked, his hand on the waist band of Shane’s boxers. Shane nodded eagerly as Ilya pulled off his boxers. His cock springs freely, hitting his stomach. 

“Fuck, hollander, so beautiful, so hard for me.” Shane whines, squirming underneath Ilya. The leather seats of the car squeaky. 

“I’m gonna take care of you.” Ilya lowers his head, licking at the tip of Shane’s cock. Shane lets out another moan, he lets his hand wander into Ilya blonde curls. Ilya wrapped his lips around Shane’s cock. Shane throws his head back, his hand holding on the door handle. Fuck, Shane has never been fucked inside of car before….let alone at the finish line. 

Ilya bobbed his head, Shane bucks up his hips, his grip getting tighter, pushing Ilya further down. Ilya moaned around Shane’s cock. 

“Roz, fuck—-oh just like that.” He moans, pushing up some more, Ilya holds down his waist. His fingers grazed against his thighs. 

“Oh, oh, fuck, I’m so close—“ Ilya lifts his head with a pop. Shane groans at the loss of contact. 

“You don’t get to come right now…..” Ilya says, reaching the glove department. He moved some things around, trying to find the small bottle. Shane’s eyes never leave Ilya. Ilya smiled once he found the small bottle of lube. 

“W-Why do you have that?” Shane asked, his chest heaving up and down. Ilya chuckled, closing the glove department. He looked down at Shane. 

“Just in case my dreams ever came true.” Ilya winked, unscrewing the cap. 

“And that is?” Shane asked, being the little curious person that he is. 

“Having you like this in the back of my car.” Ilya says without hesitation. Shane’s face had redden, he didn’t know what to say behind that, because in the back of his mind, he still hated Ilya and still felt betrayed…but he couldn’t help that he wanted Ilya and possibly imagined being fucked in the back of Ilya’s car. 

The way Ilya knew how to handle cars better than Shane, it made Shane want more…even though he denies it, but in secret, it’s what he wanted. He wanted Ilya to drift him the way Ilya drifts his car, the way swerves each corner they turn, he wanted to feel Ilya swerving and filling him like how he swerves the car. 

And yet, Shane still hates himself for wanting that, but now here he is, in the back of Ilya’s car, watching him lube up his fingers. Those very same fingers that drift this very same car. Ilya spreads Shane’s thighs, lowering his fingers. 

“Ready?” Ilya asks and Shane nods his head, he whimpers, feeling Ilya’s fingers slowly push inside of his hole. 

“Fuck hollander, you’re so tight.” Ilya grunted, he let Shane adjust his fingers before he could move. 

Shane lets out a gasp, the pressure from Ilya’s fingers, feels so much different from the purple dildo he uses at home. He lets out a breath, “M-Move.” Shane mutters. 

Ilya slowly pushes in and out…Shane lets out a few unhinged moans. Ilya adds a second finger, scissoring and stretching Shane’s hole, feeling his own cock throbbing against his boxer. Ilya lowers his mouth, Shane’s thighs spread some more. His legs over Ilya's shoulder. He licks at Shane’s hole, adding a third finger. Shane is a moaning mess. 

“OH MY GOD ROZ!” Shane screams, he starts fucking Ilya’s face. 

“P-Please, f-fuck, I’m s-so c-close,” Shane moans, his chest heaving up and down. Ilya pulled up, not wanting Shane to come just yet. He loves the feeling of being in control. 

“I F-Fucking h-hate you.” Shane managed to say out of breath. 

“No you don’t.” Ilya smirked, pulling his boxers down. He slicks himself up, watching a wrecked Shane as he aligns himself up to Shane’s hole. 

“I know how bad you want my 9 inch cock, your hole is writhing and unclenching and clenching….ready to take me.” Shane whimpers, and god he fucking hates that Ilya is such a tease and knows a way with his words. 

“How bad do you want it hollander?” Ilya asked, slowly shoving his cock inside of Shane. 

“Ohhh.” Shane grasped, gripping the door handles like it was about to escape. 

“You feel my cock hollander, you feel how well you’re adjusting.” Shane whines, squirming underneath Ilya. 

“M-Move.” Ilya nods, slowly starts to move his hips. 

“F-Fuck, hollander, you’re so tight!!!! So good for me.” Ilya grunts, his hips clapping against Shane’s ass. He moves in and out of Shane’s hole, building a rhythm….he looks down at Shane as he thrust into him. 

“Oh, hollander, you’re so beautiful, looking like a wreck underneath me, under my control. The city lights glowing against your body just like how I imagined it.” Ilya grunts some more, picking up the pace. Shane wraps his legs around Ilya's waist, matching his thrust. 

“Roz, fuck, right there.” Shane lets out a moan that Ilya has never heard before, and it was all because of him. The leather seats squeaking, the windows foggy, sweat dripping between them. Moans filling the car, outside the city is quiet, the crowd had long faded out. Ilya picks up the thrust, he grips Shane’s nipples, flickering it. 

“Ooh f-fuck hollander!!!!” He moans, his other free hand strikes Shane’s cock. 

“AHHH AHHH AHH UHHH!!” The moans leave Shane’s mouth, Ilya’s cock twitching inside of him. 

“H-Harder.” Shane says, and Ilya slips out his cock and slams it back into Shane. The car rocking side to side. More moans fill the car, Shane was lost in another dimension possibly going into subspace. 

“I-M SO CLOSE-FUCKKKK SHANEEEE!!!!” Ilya pounds Shane’s hole, holding his waist. 

“Fill m-me up— I’m I’m so close ILYA!!!” And that does something to Ilya, hearing the way Shane moans his name…..he didn’t say Roz, or Rozy….he said Ilya. Ilya for the first time and that drove Ilya crazy. Ilya leaned down, their lips met, and for the first time Shane didn’t think about hating Ilya, he didn’t think about the way he was feeling betrayed. The kiss was sloppy but still tender. 

“Come for me.” Ilya mutters into the kiss ... .and Shane screams Ilya’s name. It didn’t take Ilya long to come since he was on edge. 

“F—Fuck Shane.” Ilya moans, his cock twitched inside of Shane’s hole, filling Shane up. He collapsed on top of Shane not caring about Shane’s come getting on him. 

~~~

The car had gone completely quiet. Not just the engine—but everything. Even the street outside felt like it had faded into something distant, like it didn’t belong in the same world as them anymore.

Shane was still leaning back against the seat, chest rising and falling slower now, but not fully steady. His hoodie was half on, half hanging off his shoulders like he’d given up on fixing anything properly. His hair was a mess, eyes half-lidded, staring at the roof of the car like it had all the answers.

It didn’t. Ilya was beside him, just as still, one arm resting loosely across his stomach, head turned slightly toward Shane. Not teasing right now. Not talking. Just… there.

That alone felt weird.

Ilya Rozanov didn’t stay quiet.

Shane exhaled slowly, swallowing before he spoke.

“So…do  you still hate me?” Ilya asked again, softer this time. No smirk behind it. No challenge.

Just the question.

Shane didn’t answer right away. His fingers flexed slightly against his hoodie sleeve, like he was thinking too hard about something he didn’t want to admit out loud.

Then finally—

“No,” he said. Simple. Honest. No attitude behind it this time. Ilya hummed under his breath, like that answer mattered more than he wanted to admit. For a while, neither of them spoke again. Outside, a car passed somewhere down the street. Distant voices. Life moving on like nothing had just happened in the backseat of a parked car.

Shane finally turned his head slightly toward him.

“You always do that,” he said.

Ilya blinked lazily. “Do what?”

“This,” Shane said, gesturing vaguely between them. “The talking, the pushing, the—whatever you call it.”

Ilya smiled faintly. “Winning?”

Shane scoffed under his breath. “Being annoying.”

That earned a quiet laugh. Then Ilya shifted a little, still relaxed, still too comfortable like he belonged there.

“Because you react,” he said simply.

Shane frowned. “That’s not a reason.”

“It is to me,” Ilya said. “Everyone else is easy. They don’t matter. But you—” he paused slightly, eyes flicking over Shane’s face, “you actually care.”

Shane rolled his eyes, but it wasn’t as sharp as it usually was.

“I don’t care.”

Ilya raised a brow.

Shane hesitated. Then corrected himself, quieter, “I just don’t like losing.”

That made Ilya smile again, slower this time.

“Same thing,” he said. Silence settled again, but it felt different now. Less sharp. More… heavy in a way Shane didn’t know how to deal with.

He stared at the ceiling again for a second before speaking.

“I  don’t hate you,” he admitted. “I just didn’t know what you were doing.”

Ilya turned his head more fully toward him now.

“And now?”

Shane let out a breath through his nose.

“Now I think you’re just a problem I can’t get rid of.”

Ilya laughed softly at that.

“Good answer.”

Shane glanced at him. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I’m not,” Ilya said, but he definitely was….another pause. Then Shane spoke again, quieter this time.

“I like you,” he admitted, like it annoyed him more than anything else in the world.

Ilya actually went still for a second.

That smirk faded just slightly.

“You do?” Ilya asked, it was shockingly surprising. 

Shane rolled his eyes immediately. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not,” Ilya said, but his voice was different now. Less teasing. More careful. A beat passed. Then Ilya looked away for a second like he needed to reset his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “I know why I got under your skin.”

Shane glanced at him.

Ilya continued, quieter now.

“Because you’re the only one who doesn’t fold when I show up. Everyone else either laughs or backs off. You don’t.”

Shane stared at him for a moment.

“That’s your type?” Ilya smiled faintly again. “Apparently.”

Shane scoffed softly, shaking his head.

“Of course it is.” He shifted slightly, pulling his hoodie properly back into place now, like he was trying to pull himself back together too.

“But don’t think this changes anything,” he said, pointing slightly at Ilya.

Ilya raised a brow. “Doesn’t it?”

“No,” Shane said immediately. “Next race, I’m beating you.”

Ilya smiled like that was exactly what he wanted to hear. 

“Oh so now, you’re the asshole.” Ilya playfully said. 

Shane turned his head toward him again.

“No, you’re still the asshole, but I mean what I said.”

Ilya held his gaze.

“Good,” he said softly.

A pause. Then, like nothing had shifted at all—

“Because I like you better when you’re trying to win.” Shane rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue…and for once, neither of them moved to leave.