Archive of Our Own ^beta

MOROCCO: PRE SEASON TESTING

"Who let Chu Wanning back this season? Isn’t it time he retired after last year?" Mo Ran complains to Xue Meng in the test period before the first race of the season. It’s not the first time he’s raised the subject.

"Mo Ran,” Xue Meng says, frowning, “You know the accident last year wasn't Chu-laoshi’s fault. He almost died. They had to put him in a coma! No one was sure whether he'd ever be able to drive again."

“Yeah, yeah,” Mo Ran rolls his eyes. “I saw the footage, there was no one anywhere near him. If he lost control of the car it's because of his own lack of skill. Not my problem."

Xue Meng looks like he wants to hit Mo Ran, but he clamps his jaw shut instead and turning away. “Shut up. Don’t say stuff like that. You don’t know what happened.”

“What else is there to know?” If Mo Ran had an accident like that, it would be the end of his career. Simple as that. He doesn’t get to make mistakes, he doesn’t get any free passes. He’s at Shisheng because he’s worked hard for it, because he has made sacrifices, because he’s the best at what he does. But he only gets one shot.

The Shisheng Formula 1 team is a well-oiled machine. With less than half the budget of their closest competitors, they still manage to get consistent results, ranking among the top teams, and sometimes even challenging Rufeng for the championship. 

At least, they were, before last year. Last year, when it all fell apart. Last year, the disaster that only team principal Xue Zhengyong has the courage to bring up. Last year when repeated mechanical failures took the team out at the knees, even before the wreck that left Chu Wanning, Shisheng’s star driver, in a medically-induced coma and almost ended his racing career for good. 

But last year is also when Mo Ran came in, his laughable big break, brought in as a backup driver from the junior program once it was clear that Chu Wanning wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. Left to limp through the rest of the year, barely scraping enough points to stay on the leaderboard, it wasn’t an ideal start to Mo Ran’s F1 career.

At the end of the season, with news of Chu Wanning’s recovery buzzing around the paddock, Mo Ran had expected to be kicked back down to where he belonged. But instead it was the easy-going Xuanji who was out of a seat, and Mo Ran who signed a contract, hands shaking so badly his handwriting was even worse than usual. 

Now at the start of a new season, his first real season, Mo Ran is hungry. Angry. He has to prove himself this year, he has to win. Even though the Shisheng engineers have somehow cobbled together a car that’s competitive enough to hold its own against the other teams, it’s not going to be easy. 

Mo Ran’s teammate, Chu Wanning, is just one problem among many. Chu Wanning hates Mo Ran, and the feeling is mutual. That's fine, no one expects them to enjoy each other’s company, in this game your teammate is your biggest rival. You're both driving the same car, so if they succeed where you fail there's nothing to blame but your own skill or lack thereof. But even on top of this, Chu Wanning has the ability to get under Mo Ran’s skin like no one else. 

Hopeless. That had been Chu Wanning’s assessment of Mo Ran’s driving, back when Mo Ran was new to Shisheng’s junior driver program and Chu Wanning was still his hero. He said it when he thought Mo Ran was out of earshot. Mo Ran can still hear it, he can still feel it, one sharp word from Chu Wanning and it cut him to the bone. 

---

VIETNAMESE GRAND PRIX: RACE DAY

The morning of the race, Mo Ran finds out Song Qitong and Nangong Si are engaged. It’s Xue Meng who breaks the news, grimacing, as they walk through the paddock towards the Shisheng garage. 

“Engaged?” Mo Ran echoes. It feels like a punch in the gut. 

“I thought it’s better you found out now from me than someone else later. They’re announcing it before the race today. I overheard one of their press guys in the hotel bar last night.” 

“Fuck.” Mo Ran wishes he could punch something. Of course, he should have expected nothing less from Song Qitong. It’s only been a few months since she broke up with him. How long was she fucking Nangong-fucking-Si behind his back? Mo Ran will never be good enough. No amount of effort can win you a dad who owns the whole team. “That bitch. And I bet she’s behind the dick size story too—”

Xue Meng’s face does something complicated. “Ah, yeah, that one’s still anonymous, no one’s trying to claim it. It’s picking up attention, though.”

“It’s definitely her.” Mo Ran likes attention. But this is his first real season in F1. As a rookie, he needs to prove himself by winning races or his first season will be his last. He needs to focus on the track in front of him, not blind items by his spiteful journalist ex-girlfriend comparing the dick sizes of everyone with a seat this year. No matter if Mo Ran came out favourably or not — it’s not something he wants to be known for before he’s got a reputation for anything else. “And I bet she’s announcing the engagement today because she knows it will put me off.”

The paddock is as busy as always with engineers dressed in team colours, mechanics rolling stands of tyres, drivers and their entourage. The better your team does, the closer your set-up is to the entrance and the less time you have to spend walking up and down. Thanks to their performance last year, it feels like Shisheng is miles away. Mo Ran strides ahead, with Xue Meng struggling to keep pace at his side. Mo Ran’s anger must show on his face because everyone gives him a wide berth. Or maybe they’ve already made up their minds that he doesn’t belong here. 

“You can’t let this get to you,” Xue Meng says, in a tone that’s probably meant to be soothing but is tinged with panic. “You got a decent time in qualifying yesterday, don’t waste it. Channel all the anger onto the track today, that’s all that matters.”

---

Xue Meng is right, annoyingly. 

But try as he might, Mo Ran can’t quite put the whole thing behind him, not when other people seem determined not to let him forget about it. Shisheng's race HQ is full of faces looking at Mo Ran with sympathetic smiles. Xue Zhengyong, in his double role as Shisheng team principal and owner, even goes out of his way to clap him on the shoulder and tell him there are plenty more fish in the sea. 

In the pre-race strategy briefing there’s an update from the bright-eyed PR manager who says as an endnote, “And as far as the gossip pieces go, the Nangong engagement, the… erm, ranking story,” she darts her eyes towards Mo Ran, then seems to think better of it and refocuses on the screen of her laptop, "we’re not going to comment on it. Stick to the usual line about keeping your mind focused on the race.” 

Mo Ran nods. He wishes she hadn’t brought it up. He’s not stupid, he knows the usual line, the same one he says whenever a journalist brings up his dead mom, or asks him about those dark years after she died when Mo Ran barely kept it together enough to stay alive, let alone think about racing. 

"Ranking story?" Chu Wanning frowns, and Mo Ran feels the collective inhale from everyone around the table. 

"It's nothing Chu-laoshi!” Xue Meng says, at the same time as the PR manager says, “Oh it's um, a ranking of some of the drivers in the paddock this year by... Size. Don't worry driver Chu, you aren't mentioned."

"Size?" Chu Wanning looks around the table, but no one meets his eyes. “You mean height?”

“Yes!” Xue Meng jumps in. “Height. That’s it exactly, Chu-laoshi.”

Mo Ran rolls his eyes. He doesn’t know why Xue Meng is so obsessed with protecting Chu Wanning, a man who is straight up rude to basically everyone he interacts with. Or is it some kind of misguided attempt to protect his innocence? As if Chu Wanning isn’t a fully grown man in his thirties with an F1 career stretching back the better part of a decade. 

“Oh, you didn’t see it, Chu-laoshi? Don’t worry, I’ll send you the link.” Mo Ran smirks, sarcasm dripping from every word. It's a simple pleasure, but he always emphasises the laoshi when he can get away with it, making it clear that Chu Wanning never taught him shit, while also reminding everyone that Chu Wanning is old enough to be his teacher. 

Xue Meng elbows him in the ribs. Chu Wanning simply glares. With an intoxicating twist of victory in his stomach, Mo Ran knows Chu Wanning is going to look up the ranking story the second he’s alone with his phone. Mo Ran only wishes he could see his reaction. 

---

Chu Wanning has more podiums and race wins than Mo Ran can be bothered to remember. He's an exacting driver and a calculated risk taker; stubborn, not willing to give an inch. That last part is the same off track; he's notorious for being cold, standoffish, arrogant, and hard to please. The latest and most egregious example, according to pit crew gossip, is Chu Wanning insisting on fine-tuning his car himself, as if he knows better than all of the highly-qualified engineers that Shisheng employs.

Unfortunately, Chu Wanning doesn't have to try very hard to get under Mo Ran's skin. It’s infuriating. Of all the assholes in F1 — and there are many — he's the only one Mo Ran can't brush off, the only one who regularly provokes him to rage. It's not like he deigns to talk to Mo Ran often, but when he does, it's the dismissive look on his face that burns Mo Ran, the way he's so obviously struggles to imagine Mo Ran as his equal.   

What makes it even worse is that Mo Ran used to idolise Chu Wanning. Mo Ran met him once after winning a junior karting championship. It must have been just after Chu Wanning had left Rufeng and started driving for Shisheng. There was a photo of them together that Mo Ran kept in his pocket, colour fading and almost tearing along the fold, until another kid in one of the children's homes stole it. Mo Ran remembers thinking Chu Wanning was maybe the best person alive, a real F1 driver, someone who was kind and strong, who told Mo Ran to keep racing. 

If you went back in time to that Mo Ran and told him that one day he'd be driving on the same team as Chu Wanning, baby Mo Ran would have probably wet himself in excitement. It sucks to realise that Chu Wanning is just another stuck-up, arrogant rich kid, just like all the other drivers. They say never meet your heroes. Mo Ran would agree. But at least now Mo Ran has a chance to beat his former hero into the ground. 

Chu Wanning with his sneer, his steely gaze, the blank look on his face like he's never felt a regular human emotion in his life. His stupidly perfect hair, his long legs as he climbs into the cockpit of the car in the same racing suit they all have to wear, but somehow on him emphasises his waist. The pale skin of his neck that Mo Ran wants to sink his teeth into. In like, a rival way. Just two rivals. Two regular guys who hate each other. Nothing else. 

It's fine. They are F1 teammates, they don't have to be best friends. Why should he let Chu Wanning get under his skin more than anyone else? Mo Ran is well aware that he doesn’t belong here. What’s one more son of a billionaire to the guy with a dead single mom and no familial ties to any automobile billionaires or former racing drivers? 

Mo Ran is better than all of them. And Mo Ran is hungrier. When he closes his teeth around something and tastes blood, he doesn't let go. That's what makes him a good driver.

---

The race, when it comes, is frustrating. It’s what Mo Ran’s been longing for all weekend, time to forget all the other bullshit. On track is his happy place. Out there it’s impossible to think about anything other than driving; just you, the car and the track. And the 20 other idiots you’re racing against. Mo Ran qualified in a decent place, so he should have had a decent chance. But he gets caught up in a crash just out of the first corner that clips the front wing of his car and he has to box early to get it replaced. 

When he comes out of the pit he's all the way down in 15th and he has to spend lap after lap crawling his way up through the ranks, each overtake more infuriating than the last. For too long he gets stuck between the Mei twins, unable to find a gap to squeeze through to overtake the one in front, and with the one behind nipping at his heels waiting for Mo Ran to make just one mistake and send him back down.

Mo Ran’s driving style is unpredictable, taking big risks with big payoffs, and never giving an inch. In the end it's the Mei twin in front that makes the mistake, misjudging a corner and going wide enough for a split second that Mo Ran can zip through the inside.

He finally finishes P8, exhausted and unsatisfied, Chu Wanning ahead of him in P5. Nangong Si is untouchable in first place, his teammate Ye Wangxi smugly beside him in second. 

Ye Wangxi is the only other driver Mo Ran respects. She came up through karting around the same time as Mo Ran, and in Mo Ran's eyes, the shit she gets for being the only woman on track balances out her retired racing champion god-father and the fact she drives for Rufeng. 

The Mei twins are somewhat of an enigma, Mo Ran isn't sure where they come from, but they have the backing of some local billionaire business mogul, bringing millions of dollars worth of sponsorship deals to any team they drive for. 

Chu Wanning is the son of Huazui, one of the legendary Wubei drivers from decades ago, when Wubei actually won things.

And then there's Mo Ran, the son of a dead single mother and nobody in particular.

"Good race," Xue Meng says through the radio in his helmet, "well done, dog." 

“Thanks,” Mo Ran mutters, even though they both know it’s a disappointing result.

---

Xue Meng is unfortunately another one of those kids whose dad owns the team, though at least he’s not as much of a dick about it these days as he was when they were kids.

They started off karting together years ago, Mo Ran and Xue Meng. And Shi Mei. Mo Ran was the best of the three of them, obviously, but the other two were good enough to occasionally keep him company on the podium. 

They lost touch after Mo Ran’s mom died and things got really bad. But when, against all odds, Mo Ran was picked up by Shisheng’s junior driver program a couple years later, they were there as well. Not racing — Xue Meng’s done a variety of odd jobs around the place from press officer to HR assistant before finally ending up as the voice in Mo Ran’s ear as he races. And Shi Mei… Shi Mei was training as a mechanic, working in the pit crew. 

Was, because in a matter of days last year, he vanished from the face of the earth. Without a word of warning or explanation he was suddenly nowhere to be found, in the paddock or elsewhere. He stopped answering Mo Ran’s calls and messages, and deleted his socials. Mo Ran tried asking Xue Meng what was going on, but his only answer was a sharp look and “You better shut up or else.” 

Mo Ran did shut up, but only because it wasn’t too difficult to work out what happened. Shi Mei happened to disappear the day after Chu Wanning’s accident. He doubts Xue Zhengyong would have been happy about it, but a driver like Chu Wanning has a lot of power, and keeping him happy is worth more than the career of some lowly pit crew employee. 

He doesn’t know why Chu Wanning chose Shi Mei to take the fall for his own incompetence, but the arrogance and callousness of it all makes Mo Ran burn. 

---

After the race, in the media area, Mo Ran’s heart jumps to see Song Qitong with a microphone and a wide smile. She spots Mo Ran too and makes a beeline to him. “Hello, Mo Ran,” she says, with a smile bordering on cruel, pointing the microphone in his face. “Good race today?”

She looks good today, long hair sleek down her back and wearing a neat little skirt and blazer combo that emphasises her breasts. She wasn’t even an F1 journalist when they started dating. Her editor put her on the beat when he heard she was dating a driver, and she used all the contacts Mo Ran could give her to climb the ladder and jump ship to a more respected publication. And now she’s jumped ship to a more respected driver.

“I heard the news,” Mo Ran says, ignoring her question. He refuses to make her life easier by giving her a stupid little snappy soundbite. “I guess congratulations are in order.”

Song Qitong ducks her head in false modesty, her left hand coming up to pick some non-existent lint from the collar of her blazer, showing off a truly enormous diamond on her finger. For some reason Mo Ran thought Nangong Si would have had more taste. “Thanks, Mo Ran! I told A-Si you’d be fine about it. I’ll make sure you’re invited to the big day. It’s going to be over the summer break.”

“So soon?” Mo Ran isn’t really surprised that she’d be eager to lock a Nangong down as quickly as possible. He imagines the Nangong lawyers are already hard at work on the pre-nup. 

“Well, A-Si and I, we both felt, what’s the point in waiting? When you know something’s right, you just know.” She says it in a vicious sing-song tone with a little giggle in the end. 

Mo Ran’s blood boils. He’s exhausted and shaky, all the adrenaline from the race drained out of his body, taking whatever was left of his patience with it. He wants to shout. He wants to reach out and wrap his hand around her pretty neck. Instead he says, hating the sharp sneer to his voice, “What about the ranking story? Does A-Si know about that? How many of them were you able to verify from personal experience?“

The sweet smile does not drop from Song Qitong's face. "I don't know what you’re talking about." 

Mo Ran shakes his head and turns to leave. He's exhausted, frustrated, itching with nervous energy. He shouldn't even be letting the dick size story get to him this much — he's first place, isn't he? Isn't it a good thing? — but it feels... Exposing. He feels everyone's eyes on him, and what do they see? A shithead kid who has long outstayed his welcome. 

He storms out of the media area. Behind him, Song Qitong calls out, “See you around, Mo Ran." Mo Ran wants to punch someone. He wants to fuck someone. He takes a deep breath and doesn’t turn around. 

Chu Wanning's there, hovering near the exit. He's notorious for never giving journalists the time of day. "Mo Ran—" he says, a frown on his face reaching out a hand to Mo Ran’s elbow. 

"What do you want?" Mo ran turns on him, too on edge to mask the aggression burning in his veins. He really doesn’t need Chu Wanning’s disapproval now on top of everything. 

Chu Wanning's face shutters. He pulls his hand back. He’s had his hair cut, Mo Ran notices. It’s shorter than usual and sticking up from his head like he's ran his hand through it after pulling his helmet off after the race. "Nothing," he says, and steps out of Mo Ran’s way.

---

>What are you doing next weekend — Mo Ran texts Rong Jiu, because even after a gym session and a long shower, he's still itchy under his skin with a mix of anger and frustration. He wants to fuck someone. This problem, at least, he can solve.

>You tell me, daddy ;) — comes the reply, less than an hour later. Mo Ran books some flights and sends him the details.

The good thing about Rong Jiu is that he doesn't give a shit about racing. He once told Mo Ran to his face that he couldn't imagine anything more boring than watching cars drive around the same track again and again for two hours. Apart from sexual compatibility they have absolutely nothing in common, so there’s no danger of Rong Jiu getting the wrong idea and trying to worm his way into Mo Ran’s world. He'll leave Rong Jiu sleeping in the hotel room in the morning and in the afternoon Rong Jiu will go shopping with his credit card. As long as he’s back at the hotel in the evening so they can fuck, Mo Ran doesn’t care.

>Only business class? Pity the only first place you have so far is in the dick measuring contest…

>Fuck off —  Mo Ran sends in response, and throws his phone to the other side of his bed. If Rong Jiu knows about that fiasco it really has spread wider than Mo Ran wanted. 

>See you on Friday 😘 

---

JAPANESE GRAND PRIX: QUALIFYING

Mo Ran meets Rong Jiu in the hotel bar after a surprisingly good qualifying session. It was raining and the track was awful, meaning all bets were off. One of the Mei twins slammed his car into the wall on the second turn, and Nangong Si had some kind of steering problem that meant he had to retire half way through his fastest lap. Plus, Mo Ran came in half a second faster than Chu Wanning. 

Mo Ran doesn’t drink while the season’s going on, so he waits for Rong Jiu to finish his cocktail before going up to the room, sitting back in the plush seat and watching him unashamedly. “Good… drive today?” Rong Jiu asks hesitantly, before tipping his glass up to drain the last of his drink. 

Mo Ran snorts. They stand up and Mo Ran guides him with a hand on his elbow to the elevators. “We both know that’s not why you’re here.”

“Eager tonight, are we?” Rong Jiu asks, eyebrow raised, like he’s not going to be begging for Mo Ran’s cock in a matter of minutes. 

Mo Ran opens his mouth to reply when the elevator dings open. They step inside and Mo Ran presses the button for the 9th floor, only to be interrupted by Chu Wanning running for the elevator, calling out, “Wait!” Mo Ran swears and fumbles with the buttons, pressing the ‘close doors’ button, at the same time as Rong Jiu throws his arm out to stop the doors sliding closed and hold the elevator in time for Chu Wanning to jog in. Rong Jiu removes his arm and the doors slide closed. 

Chu Wanning is wearing a blue, Shisheng-branded polo shirt and a pair of beige slacks. The polo shirt is buttoned all the way up to his neck. His lack of game is frankly embarrassing, he gives every other F1 driver a bad name. Mo Ran sees the exact moment on Chu Wanning’s face when he looks around and realises Mo Ran is in the elevator as well. 

“What floor?” Rong Jiu asks.

“Nine.” 

“That’s a coincidence! We’re on the ninth as well.” Rong Jiu leans into Mo Ran’s shoulder, threading his arm though Mo Ran’s elbow. Chu Wanning looks at them, gaze visibly shifting from Rong Jiu’s face to where their arms are joined, to Mo Ran’s face. He nods stiffly at Mo Ran, then stares at his shoes. 

“Oh! Do you two work together? Mo Ran, why didn’t you introduce us?” He’s being a little shit on purpose. Mo Ran gives him a look, but he smiles back, squeezing Mo Ran's arm. 

“Rong Jiu, Chu Wanning. Chu Wanning, Rong Jiu,” Mo Ran says, shortly, wondering how much longer the elevator can possibly take to get up to the ninth floor. Rong Jiu’s hand is curling possessively around Mo Ran’s bicep, his head tilted to rest on Mo Ran’s shoulder. “Chu Wanning is the other driver for Shisheng. Rong Jiu is my… friend.” Chu Wanning looks up only to glare at them again. 

The elevator stops and the doors open. All three of them turn right onto the corridor and for one heart-sinkingly awkward moment Mo Ran thinks their rooms are going to end up next to each other, but Chu Wanning stops outside a door thankfully twenty metres down from Mo Ran’s. 

“So nice to meet you, Chu Wanning!” Rong Jiu calls out as they leave him behind. Mo Ran elbows him hard enough that he squawks and then Mo Ran gets the door open and he pushes Rong Jiu into the room.

“What the fuck was that?”

Rong Jiu throws himself onto the bed, laughing. “So that was the famous Chu Wanning? Is he always like that?”

“Yes,” Mo Ran says immediately, even though he’s not sure what Rong Jiu is specifically referring to. 

“Shit. I guess it must be awkward that he’s in love with you.”

“What?” How much did Rong Jiu drink this afternoon?

“Come on, did you see the look he gave me when he saw me on your arm…”

“I hate to disappoint, but he always looks like that. Were you trying to make him jealous?” Mo Ran scoffs. 

There’s a self satisfied smile on Rong Jiu’s face. “It’s not like I had to try very hard.” 

Mo Ran rolls his eyes. “He was probably just scandalised. I don’t know if he believes in sex before marriage. Or sex at all, actually.”

“Come on, he’s kind of cute, in a buttoned-up professor way.”

Mo Ran knows Rong Jiu is just trying to wind him up, but this is so ridiculous that he pauses with his shirt buttons half-undone to stare at him and the apparently serious expression on his face. “Are you high? Was your drink spiked? Maybe a concussion?” 

---

JAPANESE GRAND PRIX: RACE DAY

Xue Meng and Mo Ran are talking strategy and watching the engineering crew getting the cars ready, when Chu Wanning appears behind them. “Will your… companion be joining us to watch the race?” he asks Mo Ran. 

Mo Ran blinks, surprised enough that he doesn’t answer in time to stop Xue Meng jumping in. “Companion? What? Who?”
 
“Calm down, Meng-Meng,” Mo Ran holds his hands up, palms open. “No one, just a friend. And no, he won’t be watching the race. He’s not interested. And also not invited. It’s just a... physical connection. Nothing serious.” He says it half to get a reaction, and he’s not disappointed. Xue Meng chokes on air, and Chu Wanning looks away sharply, clearly furious for some reason Mo Ran can't be bothered to puzzle out. It's not super surprising that he hates other people having fun on top of everything else. 

It’s still raining when the race starts, causing predictable chaos that slows everything down and leaves all the cars frantically clawing for position when the weather clears up about half way through. Nangong Si’s gearbox is still out of commission, and Mo Ran is keen to take advantage of the opportunity, pushing to the limit during the rain and afterwards and being rewarded with a respectable P4. Chu Wanning comes in P6 and Ye Wangxi sails into first, standing on the podium looking almost bored with it. She blows a kiss in Mo Ran’s direction, which Mo Ran returns with an only half-serious middle finger. 

It’s his best result of the year, and Mo Ran knows he should be happy with it, but the podium is so close it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to come so far and still be so far away. 

Rong Jiu, at least, is naked in Mo Ran’s bed when he gets back.

---

MEXICAN GRAND PRIX -> AZERBAIJAN GRAND PRIX -> MIAMI GRAND PRIX -> SPANISH GRAND PRIX

Next comes a string of races in Europe and North America. It’s too far away to go home in between them, and Mo Ran is suddenly so busy it’s hard to think. He’s either travelling, training, racing, talking about racing, thinking about racing, filming sponsor promos, meeting with engineers to tweak the car this way or the other, talking to journalists about racing, signing Shisheng merch until his hand aches, or staring up at his hotel ceiling replaying past races in his mind and trying to pinpoint the exact moment he went wrong. 

He runs through all the unfamiliar tracks on the simulator so often he knows every turn in his sleep — he dreams about racing too. A dream where his car won’t rev, a dream where he’s overslept and has to run to the track except no one will tell him where it is and his legs aren’t working properly. A dream about bending Chu Wanning over his car and —

Well maybe that one wasn’t about racing per se… but it’s undoubtedly a sign he’s not getting out enough. How is his brain not able to dredge up a more arousing person than Chu Wanning in his Shisheng racing suit? He must have worked so hard that day that he worked himself into a slight fever. 

Or is it Mo Ran’s dick screaming in protest via his brain because he’s been too busy to do anything but jerk off to the pictures Rong Jiu sends of him in the underwear he bought with Mo Ran’s credit card? Mo Ran isn’t stupid, he knows they’re the same pictures Rong Jiu’s subscribers get two days later, but at least Rong Jiu takes the time to message them to him personally. 

Flying him out to fuck in person again is out of the question. Even when things calm down a little, Mo Ran dismisses the thought. He keeps returning to Rong Jiu’s comment on Chu Wanning, even weeks later. It was a joke, but it shows just how little they see eye to eye. Mo Ran can deal with Rong Jiu not caring about racing, but finding Chu Wanning attractive...? 

At the end of Barcelona, Mo Ran is just as frustrated as ever. He'dd love to say that all his hard work and sacrifices pay off, but his results have been middling: sometimes points, sometimes not, nothing higher than P7 overall. Xue Meng smiles at him in the pitying way he has that makes Mo Ran hate himself. He forces himself to smile back and carry on. 

---

SINGAPORE GRAND PRIX: RACE DAY

Singapore is a tight street circuit, the track boxed in on both sides with barely any room to overtake. The slightest mistake or hesitation, either yours or one from any of the other 19 drivers on the track can send your car smashing straight into the wall at 200mph. 

It's a night race, though that does nothing to alleviate the suffocating heat. Stepping out of the heavily air-conditioned buildings is like walking into a bath, the humidity in the air thick and heavy. Mo Ran's race suit is already soaked with sweat by the time he's pulling out of the pit for the formation lap. He's feeling good though, he has a good feeling that this one's going to go his way. He needs a win, he needs something in his corner. Just one win and the rest will come easy. 

Qualifying yesterday was a dream. He's starting the race p5, dizzyingly ahead of Chu Wanning who is back in p7. The points are his to lose. 

"You've got this, dog. A clean race," Xue Meng says in his ear as all the cars line up in their starting positions. The car surrounds Mo Ran, engine thrumming, feeling the revs through his whole body, overtaking his heartbeat. 

He's got this. 

In the last third of the race, Mo Ran is P3. Holding steady. His pace is good. Mo Ran isn't aware of anything but the car. He's not breathing. He barely has a body. Controlling the car is as instinctual as moving. 

"Chu Wanning behind," Xue Meng says in his ear. The track flashes by, corner follows corner, the straight blurs with speed. "Move aside," comes the order. "He's got more pace."

No. Mo Ran stays steady. How can Chu Wanning be going faster than him? Everything's going perfectly. He's in P3. There's no way Chu Wanning gets to take this from him now. 

"Mo Ran," Xue Meng says again, tone clipped. "Move aside."

"I can do it," Mo Ran says, giving in to his more petulant, toddler instincts. Xue Zhengyong will have a full view of the race, he's the one who sets the tactics. Shisheng will be prioritising overall points for both the team and the individual drivers. They will have teams of analysts running the numbers, telling them that Chu Wanning is the safest bet. But Mo Ran knows he can do this. 

"Move. Aside." Xue Meng says again, and now Mo Ran can see Chu Wanning behind him, hovering slightly to the left, preparing himself for the opening Mo Ran has been ordered to give him. 

Chu Wanning inches his car closer, they're bumper to bumper. 

"Mo Ran," Xue Meng is pleading now. Mo ran doesn't hear him. He can do it, the place is his, he's worked so hard for. 

He knows something is wrong when the car jolts forward and he almost bites the end of his tongue off. And then—

Then everything goes wrong all at once. Mo Ran is fighting for control and losing, a sickening lurch in his stomach as the g force changes, the car spins and crashes into blinding white.

---

"What the fuck was that?" Mo Ran pulls himself out of the car, dodging jets of fire extinguishing foam from overeager track safety officers. 

Chu Wanning is in the car behind him, bumper to bumper with his still, they must have spun together, into the wall. Both of them are out of the race. 

Xue Meng is screaming in his ear over the radio. Mo Ran tears his helmet off and throws it away. Chu Wanning is still in the car, Through the helmet Mo Ran can't see his expression and he couldn't care less. 

Mo Ran isn't exactly sure what happens next, there's  so much adrenaline and testosterone and fury raging around his system. He knows he never actually reaches Chu Wanning, he must get stopped by one of the security officers before he gets there. 

He sees Chu Wanning getting out of the car. There’s a lot of people shouting at him by then. 

The mood back at the Shisheng offices is poisonous. Xue Meng glares and pulls Mo Ran into a conference room, Mo Ran is vaguely aware of Chu Wanning being shepherded past the door a moment afterwards, surrounded by a clinging crowd. Precious Chu Wanning, fragile Chu Wanning. Why is everyone acting like he is the victim here? Mo Ran also crashed! Chu Wanning was the one who was going to steal Mo Ran’s position! 

“What?” Mo Ran says. In the enclosed room his words come out louder than he meant them to. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, staring down Xue Meng’s… what expression is that? Horror? Disgust? 

“You know what, Mo Ran. Apart from the fact that you’re both disqualified, and possibly facing fines, on top of two completely wrecked cars? You had to pull this stunt here? At Singapore?”

“What’s so special about Singapore?” Mo Ran already knows how badly he’s fucked up, there’s nothing Xue Meng can tell him that hasn’t already ran through his head, feeding the oil-slick self hatred deep in his gut. He failed. He's not good enough. After Shisheng give up on him, will any other team want him? Or will that be the end of everything he's worked so hard to acheive?

Xue Meng looks like the only thing stopping him launching himself at Mo Ran and throttling him is the flimsy conference table between them. “You know what happened at Singapore last year, Mo Ran!” He storms out, slamming the door behind him so hard that it bangs right back open again, leaving Mo Ran staring into the empty corridor. 

Mo Ran is shivering, a mixture of the air conditioning chilling the sweat-drenched boiler suit on his skin and the adrenaline come down. Xue Meng is right, he doesn’t have to think too hard to remember what happened at Singapore last year. It’s the race that changed everything. When Chu Wanning had such a catastrophic crash that it landed him in a coma. 

Mo Ran swallows. There is no way he’s getting out of this looking like a good guy. No one’s told him whether he can leave or not, but he gets up anyway. Xue Meng knows where to find him, and nothing good will come of him staying here to get yelled at even more. 

That night his dreams are full of the screech of tires, bright white lights and the wall rushing towards him. 

---

WUCHANG: HOME OF SHISHENG F1 TEAM

True to Song Qitong’s word, an invitation on thick, gilt card stock is among the bundle of paper mail that Mo Ran picks up from his building’s doorman when he returns to his own apartment for the first time weeks. Mo Ran scans it for details: join us to celebrate true love, blah blah blah, black tie, no plus one. 

Simply refusing to RSVP and not attending does cross Mo Ran’s mind, but only for a second. He’ll be there, whether to sabotage the whole thing or simply stir up some harmless drama, he hasn’t decided yet. 

It’s the week in between Singapore and Hong Kong and for once Mo Ran is in his own place and has a half day free after an engineering meeting at Shisheng HQ was cancelled last minute. The free time should feel luxurious but instead it’s boring. After all the time away, his apartment is a sparsely-furnished glass box that doesn’t even feel like a person lives there. Half his kitchen things are still brand new, sitting in the cupboards still wrapped in shiny plastic. 

He goes shopping as a last resort, because whether he’s attending his ex’s wedding as a potential saboteur or not, he needs a good outfit. Either way the outfit is crucial to let all the other guests know that, despite Song Qitong marrying a billionaire mere months after their breakup, Mo Ran is the real winner of the two of them. Plus, blowing obscene amounts of money always makes him feel better. 

There’s a luxury mall in easy driving distance from his place, and Mo Ran wanders along the shiny, air-conditioned hallways until he finds a store that looks expensive enough, with sharply-tailored suits in the window. 

“Can I help you?” a voice behind Mo Ran asks, just when he’s turned to admire the rack of samples. 

“Yeah-” Mo Ran starts to say, turns around and stops short. 

Shi Mei takes a step backward, shock obvious on his pretty face. He glances around, eyes wide, like he’s looking for a way out. Mo Ran reaches out on instinct to take his arm. There’s no one else around them, the mall is deserted.

“Shi Mei. What-?” Mo Ran has to pause for a second to get his words in order. It’s so unexpected, to see him again, to see him here. But here he is. “What are you doing here? Did you get my messages? What happened to you? How long have you been working here?”

He won’t meet Mo Ran’s eyes. Shi Mei tries to pull his arm away from Mo Ran’s grip, but Mo Ran doesn’t let him go. He’s paler than Mo Ran remembers, but just as lovely, delicate features and full lips. He finally looks up and says, “Don’t, Mo Ran. Forget you saw me here. Just leave it. It's easier for the both of us. 

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking,” Shi Mei hisses, even though there’s no one around them to overhear, “about you. About you pretending like everything can go back to the way it was after what I did.” His tone is sharper than Mo Ran’s ever heard it. Where is his soft Shi Mei who always had a smile and some kind words for everyone?

He must think Mo Ran has bought into all the bullshit. “Don’t worry, Shi Mei, I know you didn’t do anything. I can help you. We can go to Xue Zhengyong and—”

Shi Mei cuts him off with a sharp, cold laugh. “They didn’t even tell you, did they? Of course not…”

Mo Ran’s hackles rise. Who has the right to not tell him anything? “Tell me what? What are you talking about? Chu Wanning bullied you out of a job, I know that much. But we can fight back, go public…”

Shi Mei shakes his head, a violent, sharp gesture. When he speaks, his voice is hollow and cold. “Mo Ran, please. You poor, dumb dog. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Chu Wanning has already been far better to me than I deserve.”

Mo Ran is angry now. Shie Mei has never spoken to him like this before. And what is he talking about? What have they been hiding from him? “What are you talking about?!” He says it so loudly that someone who must be Shi Mei’s coworker pokes his head out of the back room. 

Shi Mei doesn’t tell him to mind his own business. He just sighs. “I don’t… Mo Ran, please don’t make me… I don’t want to say it. You should ask Xue Meng, okay? And leave. Please.” He starts pulling Mo Ran towards the exit. "You need to go."

“But I—”

“Please, Mo Ran. I work here. You’re making a scene. You’re looking for a wedding outfit, right? There’s a good place around the corner. Just go. And don’t try to contact me again.”

But when Mo Ran staggers out of the store, hollow, head spinning, he’s no longer in any mood for shopping. 

---

The next morning Mo Ran storms into Shisheng HQ half an hour early for his morning R&D meeting. Mo Ran’s mood is already dire; after stewing all day yesterday he got drunk for the first time in months, alone and miserable in his apartment and god-knows what the knock-on effects to his training regimen will be. It’s left him bloated and hungover this morning, already hating himself for his momentary lapse in judgement, on top of the confusion of bumping into Shi Mei. 

He finds Xue Meng making himself a coffee in the staff kitchen. Chu Wanning is there too, because of course he is, cradling a steaming cup of tea. They both look up as Mo Ran barges in, and their conversation falls silent. Were they talking about him? Usually Mo Ran wouldn’t care if they were, but he already feels so out of the loop that it stings. 

“I need to talk to you,” Mo Ran says to Xue Meng, ignoring Chu Wanning. 

“What’s the matter now?” Xue Meng’s tone is exasperated, like Mo Ran is just one more problem he has to deal with.

Suddenly Mo Ran doesn’t care that Chu Wanning is still in the room, that he’s speaking too loud or if he’s being unreasonable. “What did you do to Shi Mei? I know you’re in on it, I ran into him yesterday and he wouldn’t say anything but I know you did something.” 

Chu Wanning won’t meet Mo Ran’s eyes, he’s staring down at his tea cup, but Mo Ran can’t tell if he looks guilty or if it’s just the usual expression of distaste on his face when he has to share a physical space with Mo Ran. 

“Shit. What?” Xue Meng is wide eyed, panicking. He hurries Mo Ran out of the room and fumbles with the door of a nearby meeting room, it’s empty. Mo Ran lets himself be led, but if Xue Meng thinks Mo Ran’s going to go easy on him, he’s got another think coming. “Where did you run into him?”

Mo Ran folds his arms over his chest. “I don’t think I want to tell you.”

“Mo Ran, please,” Xue Meng looks at him, eyes wide, then he sighs and kneads his forehead with the heel of his palm. “You don’t understand.”

“That’s because no one ever tells me what’s going on! Explain it to me then!”

“I wanted to tell you at the time, but it was for Shi Mei’s own good. You’re not exactly the most… discreet person. And you were still dating Song Qitong at the time. If it had got out it would have been really bad.”

“What do you mean? What would have been really bad?”

“I’m telling you! Give me a chance. Just please, Mo Ran, you have to promise this won’t go any further. Shi Mei won’t thank you if it does. You’ll see why.”

Mo Ran inclines his head, reserving judgement. Xue Meng takes it as agreement. 

“Okay well… Remember last year when the car was having all those unexplained mechanical failures and engineering could never work out the cause? It would test fine, then in the middle of the race the gearbox would fail?”

“Yeah. So what?” F1 cars are complex; random mechanical failures aren’t exactly uncommon. Shisheng’s car last year had been especially prone to them, but there could have been any number of reasons why. 

“Well, Shi Mei… My dad had suspicions but he was never able to get proof. And then when Chu-laoshi’s accident happened, Shi Mei was inconsolable. Everyone was upset of course, but he was panicking. Saying stuff like ‘it wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t supposed to go this far.’”

Mo Ran shakes his head. “You can’t expect me to believe that Shi Mei would-?”

“I didn't at first either, but he confessed to it, Mo Ran,” Xue Meng says, “he came clean while Chu Wanning was in the hospital. Some kind of dangerous family connection, blackmail… it was bet fixing, they asked him to sabotage the car so they could put money on a car failure in the fifth lap. Stuff like that. The accident was never meant to happen, but then the tyre blew at the same time on such a nasty corner…”

Mo Ran sits down heavily in one of the chairs around the conference table. He feels sick to his stomach and it’s not just because of the hangover. “No… I don’t… if that were true, it’s a crime, isn’t it? Why didn’t anyone go to the police?”

“My dad wanted to press charges,” Xue Meng nods, “but Chu Wanning persuaded him not to. He said Shi Mei had already suffered enough, he was sorry, that was it. He didn’t want him to go to jail. He was in the hospital, Mo Ran. Still hooked up to about a hundred different tubes and machines and that was what he was most worried about.”

Mo Ran stares down at his own hands. It doesn’t make sense. Except what had Shi Mei said yesterday? Stop pretending like everything can go back to the way it was after what I did. Chu Wanning has already been far better to me than I deserve.

“Where did you run into Shi Mei yesterday? My dad didn’t press charges but he made sure that Shi Mei would never work in another F1 garage.”

“It was in the luxury mall,” Mo Ran’s voice sounds dead to his own ears, flat. “The new one. He’s working in one of the stores there.”

“Okay. And you spoke to him? He didn’t tell you anything?”

“He told me to leave him alone. And not to go back there.”

Xue Meng nods, apparently satisfied by that. 

Mo Ran is still trying to digest this new information, trying to piece the puzzle together, discovering it shows a completely different picture than the one he was expecting. But there’s still one piece that he can’t make fit. “Say everything you just told me is true,” he starts. 

“It is.”

“Fine. But why would Chu Wanning be so worried about what happened to Shi Mei? Why did he care?”

Xue Meng looks at Mo Ran like he’s suddenly started talking a different language. “Because he cares about us, Mo Ran. After everything he’s done for you, how can you be surprised by that?”

Mo Ran scoffs. “You’re crazy. What has Chu Wanning ever done for me?” 

Xue Meng barks out a laugh, though Mo Ran can tell he doesn’t find it funny at all. It’s more of a deranged, I-can’t-believe-this laugh. He looks up at the ceiling before he answers, gathering strength. “How can you say that? You wouldn’t have a seat this year if he hadn’t spoken up for your abilities over Xuanji. Not to mention the junior driver program. I get that the two of you are teammates now, but do you have to go so hard on him?”

This doesn’t make sense. “He what? What about the junior driver program?”

“The whole thing was his idea. He funded it after Huaizai left him everything,” Xue Meng says, in a tone that leaves the ‘duh’ heavily implied. “Why do you think the Wubei team hates us so much?”

“Because they can barely score a point?” Mo Ran answers automatically while his brain scrambles. 

“Well, yeah,” Xue Meng rolls his eyes, “but also because their main investor died and left everything to his adopted son who happened to be a driver on another team. They had to take that awful Taobao sponsorship deal afterwards. Chu-laoshi put everything into the Shisheng’s junior program. He was adamant that you were part of it too, even though no one had heard from you for years.”

It can't be true. It can't be true. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?” Hopeless: the tone of it in Chu Wanning’s sharp voice echoes in his ears, still sharp in Mo Ran’s memory all these years later.

Xue Meng sighs. “The junior driver funding is kind of an open secret. Chu-laoshi didn’t want anyone to make a big deal out of it.”

“But I—” Mo Ran starts to say, and then stops. “You said he spoke up for me over Xuanji?”

Xue Meng hesitates, like he’s realising now he might have said too much. But he nods. “Obviously it wasn’t the only reason you got a seat, but I was there in the meeting with my dad at the end of last year when Chu Wanning said he’d rather have you as a teammate, that you’d been outperforming the car and you deserved a chance. My dad agreed.”

Mo Ran takes a deep breath and drops his head into his hands. 

After a long silence, Xue Meng says, “What? You didn’t really think Chu-laoshi hated you, did you?”

With all the emotion roiling round his head, Mo Ran defaults to anger. “What was I supposed to think? Chu Wanning can’t even look me in the eyes. He’s barely said more than two words to me since the start of the season.”

Xue Meng grimaces. “Okay, yeah, his social skills sometimes leave some things to be desired. His face is so thin, even I can see that. But it’s been a tough year for him too, remember. Coming back from the accident, everyone wondering if he’s still got it. Asking him why he doesn’t just retire…”

“Right.” Mo Ran says, faintly. He can’t meet the earnest look in Xue Meng’s eyes. Mo Ran feels like he’s just found out he’s been living in a different universe than everyone else all this time. His phone lets out a gentle chime from his pocket, a reminder that his meeting with R&D is about to start, and he jumps at the excuse to flee from the conference room. 

The staff kitchen, when he passes it on the way out, is empty.

---

MACAU GRAND PRIX: QUALIFYING

Chu Wanning is elusive all the rest of that week. Mo Ran doesn't exactly look for him, but he notices when he doesn't see Chu Wanning around the Shisheng offices or on the flight over to Macau. Xue Meng doesn't mention their conversation in the conference room again, and when he has to refer to Chu Wanning when they're talking race strategy, he does it gingerly, as if he's mentioning one of Mo Ran’s particularly painful exes. 

After an undisclosed amount of time spent lying on his bed staring at the ceiling contemplating all the revelations Xue Meng sprung on him, Mo Ran is still in the process of cycling through some heavy emotions. 

The first emotion was anger. Okay, it's mostly just anger. After leaving shisheng HQ that day, Mo Ran went straight to the gym where ran he turned on the treadmill and ran, letting the pounding rhythm of his feet lull him into a kind of furious trance where he played out fantasies of confronting Chu Wanning: different ways of making him confess how he really feels about Mo Ran, that he respects him as a driver, that he's doing a good job. He was so lost in thought that when he looked down he was already at 10k distance. 

Mo Ran is angry about Shi Mei, of course, about so many aspects of Shi Mei’s situation that it’s paralysing. He’s angry that Shi Mei would do something like that, of course, that he would stoop that low, put lives in danger, throw away a career he worked so hard for. Angry that no one thought Mo Ran deserved to know what happened. Angry that Shi Mei never told Mo Ran his side of the story - Xue Meng had mentioned blackmail… Mo Ran composes about 20 versions of the same message to Shi Mei and sends not a single one. It wouldn’t do any good — he’s still blocked anyway. He also doesn’t go back to the luxury mall. In the fallout of this whole thing, Mo Ran has the sense that his world has shifted, and he’s still trying to make sense of this new centre of gravity. 

Most of his anger Mo Ran focuses on Chu Wanning. He’s pretty sure everything Xue Meng told him was the truth (while Xue Meng might stretch the truth to make his beloved Chu-laoshi look good, he can’t straight up lie to Mo Ran’s face, Mo Ran knows his tells), but that doesn’t necessarily mean Chu Wanning deserves Mo Ran’s forgiveness. 

He considers the possibility that it’s all an elaborate double bluff: that Chu Wanning hates Mo Ran so much that he furthered Mo Ran’s career just to throw Mo Ran off his game by making him think he owes Chu Wanning something. But then why would he keep everything a secret? How would it work if Mo Ran didn’t even realise he owed something to Chu Wanning in the first place? It doesn’t make sense. 

Mo Ran spends a moment considering that perhaps Chu Wanning is genuinely secretly a good person? That Mo Ran has been treating him unfairly. He thinks of all the times he antagonised Chu Wanning, of the crash in Singapore and how shaken he looked afterwards, and Mo Ran feels... bad. Maybe he’s been too hard on his teammate… A moment later he comes to his senses. This is F1. Whether he owes something to Chu Wanning or not, why should he feeling bad about being competitive? This must have been Chu Wanning’s play all along. It’s some kind of sophisticated psychological mind game to make Mo Ran go easy on him. 

By the time he’s in the paddock, warming up for qualifying, Mo Ran is certain. He barely understands the twists and turns of it, but somehow Chu Wanning has succeeded in making Mo Ran think he might be a somewhat decent person, therefore making Mo Ran a weaker competitor. 

Well two can play at that game. 

“Here you go, Chu-laoshi,” Mo Ran slides the tea across the desk where Chu Wanning is sitting in front of a laptop in the middle of a video call with a group of fans who won some kind of competition. 

“What is it?” Chu Wanning asks, staring at it, then at Mo Ran, then back at the tea. 

“Tea, of course. The kind you like.” Mo Ran is telling the truth, he’s watched Xue Meng make it enough times to know. 

There’s a long pause where Chu Wanning stares, like he’s expecting Mo Ran to reveal at the last minute that he poisoned it, or maybe for the tea to catch fire. Mo Ran meets his gaze, with his best attempt at a patient smile on his face. Slowly, Chu Wanning raises the cup to his lips and takes a sip. “It’s good,” he declares, sounding faintly surprised. 

Mo Ran lets his smile grow wider. “Good luck out there today!”

Chu Wanning frowns, nods stiffly. From the laptop a tinny voice sounds, “Uh… driver Chu? Can you still hear us?” at the same time as Xue Meng appears at Mo Ran’s elbow and pulls him away. 

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” he says, glaring at Mo Ran, “but I don’t like it.”

---

MACAU GRAND PRIX: RACE DAY

For all the emotional upheaval he went through this week, Mo Ran was never worried about it touching his performance on track. If anything, it has just made him itch to race even more than usual. All week he’s been dreaming of seeing those lights go out, feeling the roar of the engine around him, speeding away from the rest of his problems at 200mph. 

There’s something magical that happens in a long race like a Grand Prix. A few laps in you get to know the surface, the corners, you scope out your main competition, establish your place. It doesn’t become routine — it’s dangerous if you let yourself relax — but you do get to know the rhythm of the race. Some tracks have awful rhythm, and every driver will have their own preference. Mo Ran has a good feeling about this one. 

The world shrinks to the size of this particular set of corners and straights, bracketed by screaming crowds. The car becomes an extension of his own body, controlling it instinctually, as natural as breathing. Mo Ran knows he is a dynamic driver, he takes more risks than others on the circuit, and gets more reward. He’s good at overtaking, spotting potential opportunities just a split second quicker than anyone else, and in this game split seconds can be the difference between millions of dollars. 

He starts in P6, settles in for the first few laps, then goes on the attack. There’s a stomach-churning moment where he climbs up to second place, zipping past Ye Wangxi in a rare moment of complacency from her on a wide corner. Mo Ran is flying. Until the car develops a problem with the power centre which makes his pace impossible to sustain, and no amount of swearing at Xue Meng over the radio will fix it. 

He holds Ye Wangxi off for as long as possible, but Mo Ran knows he’s just postponing the inevitable, and on the straight the car just can’t keep up, she passes him easily.

The rest of the race is spent in defensive mode, fending off the rabble behind him with every trick in his arsenal. If he looses his place there’s no way he can fight for it back, but he can make it fucking difficult for those bastards to take it in the first place. In the end he finishes P4, disappointingly close to the podium once again, but at least this time Mo Ran knows there was nothing else he could have done. 

Chu Wanning is P2, standing stiffly on the podium, glaring at his cheering fans. By a pure fluke, one of the Mei twins is in first place, and he’s celebrating enthusiastically, shaking his magnum of champagne and spraying it everywhere. It goes all over Chu Wanning, plastering his hair to his forehead and earning a particularly displeased glare. 

Mo Ran laughs. He's never met anyone less suited to being a successful F1 driver than Chu Wanning off track. On track, no one can question him. 

“Nice one,” he says to Chu Wanning later, after the post-race brief. Mo Ran even claps him on the shoulder for good measure. Chu Wanning brings a hand up to the shoulder Mo Ran just touched. He stares at Mo Ran again, and says nothing, expression a mix of confusion and something else Mo Ran can’t quite place. 

Mo Ran smiles to himself as he walks away. His new plan is working perfectly. 

---

Unusually, they all fly home together after Macau. It’s the start of the summer break, and they’re flying back for a promo shoot for one of their biggest sponsors, a company who didn’t think twice in offering them a private jet for the journey. On Shisheng’s budget it’s not a regular occurrence, and Mo Ran is in a mood to enjoy the luxury. He takes a lot of flights, and it's been a long time since he's flown economy, but this is on another level. 

They take off, and while the jet is still climbing the flight attendant comes round with a fresh bottle of champagne. She's very pretty. Mo Ran grins at her as she comes over, and she smiles back, holding eye contact just a second longer than normal. It's not like he's going to act on it, but it's still fun to flirt. It’s all lost on Xue Meng, who is already passed out asleep beside Mo Ran, eye mask on, snoring open-mouthed. Mo Ran glances over at Chu Wanning, who is looking at Mo Ran with his usual expression of distaste. What had Xue Meng said? Surely a thin face and a bit of social anxiety couldn't explain away what is so clearly hatred? When Chu Wanning meets Mo Rans eyes, he jerks his gaze away to the floor. Mo Ran gestures for the flight attendant to go over to him. 

There's something different about Chu Wanning's posture, though. Mo Ran has spent a lot of time in the last few months watching Chu Wanning, and never in that time would Mo Ran have described him as laid back. But even before a race, Mo Ran has never seen his jaw clenched this tightly. His fingers are white knuckled on the plush private-jet upholstery and he can barely pry them off to wave the flight attendant away without accepting any complimentary champagne. 

"Wanning," Mo Ran says, barely managing to hide the glee from his voice. "Are you scared of flying?"

Chu Wanning glares at him, but says nothing, which is as good as a confession. "Wanning," Mo Ran says, slipping off his own seatbelt to perch on the arm of Chu Wanning’s seat. Chu Wanning leans as far away as he can get physically without undoing his own seatbelt. “You know, flying is objectively the safest form of transport." 

"I know that." Chu Wanning snaps. 

“You regularly drive a car over 200mph.” 

“I’m in control of the car, Mo Ran. I’m not in control of a tin can flying at 30,000 feet above the ocean.”

“But we fly all over the world for races every year—”

"I know that. It's not rational. I don’t like heights." Chu Wanning is very obviously not enjoying this conversation. 

Mo Ran is reminded of that one time Chu Wanning lost control of the car and landed in a medically induced coma. He winces. He’s supposed to be being nice to Chu Wanning, not terrorising him for his phobias or reminding him about the worst day of his life. Mo Ran holds his hands open in surrender. “Okay, okay. Don’t worry. It’s going to be fine. At least if this thing goes down there’s plenty of champagne to drink in our last moments.”

Chu Wanning sniffs. “I don’t like heights. I can deal with it. Are you satisfied?”

Mo Ran slips into the empty window next to Chu Wanning and stretches out, making himself comfortable. “Not particularly,” he says, with a wide smile. It’s impossible to tell whether Chu Wanning understood the sexual innuendo Mo Ran was going for, because at that moment there’s a jolt of turbulence and his hands white-knuckle on the seat again. 

Scared of heights, Mo Ran files away in his mental store of information on Chu Wanning — this fact at least he could try and use to his advantage. But how? F1 tracks by definition are on the ground, not high up… maybe he could lure Chu Wanning to a high up place and… scare him so much it would impact on his race performance? Mo Ran sighs. That probably wouldn’t work. 

He takes a determined swig of his champagne and looks at Chu Wanning out of the corner of his eye. He looks like he’s trying to meditate, taking deep, steadying breaths, eyes closed. That was probably the longest conversation they’ve ever had that wasn’t mediated by other people. Knowing that the great Chu Wanning is afraid of flying is… Mo Ran has a strange feeling about it that he can’t quite place. It’s so far away from his untouchable, ice-cold driver persona. This Chu Wanning, the one sitting next to Mo Ran right now, could almost be a completely different person. Maybe it's almost possible imagine that this Chu Wanning doesn't hate Mo Ran. Almost.

The rest of the flight is smooth and uneventful. So much so that Chu Wanning’s meditation turns into sleeping, head nodding slowly, mortifyingly, onto Mo Ran’s shoulder. Mo Ran sits frozen, considers elbowing Chu Wanning away, or at least moving his shoulder so his head would fall and he’d jerk awake. That would probably be the kindest, least embarrassing option for both of them. But for some reason Mo Ran stays still, taking his phone out to snap a selfie of him grinning, Chu Wanning face slack in sleep, snoozing on his shoulder and otherwise lets him sleep. At least the pretty flight attendant keeps his champagne flute topped up. 

Only when the pilot announces they are beginning their descent does Chu Wanning jerk awake, and then they both sit up straight in their chairs and pretend it never happened.

---

LINYI: WEDDING OF SONG QITONG & NANGONG SI

Unsurprisingly, Song Qitong’s wedding to Nangong Si is an extravagant affair. It’s held in a luxury hotel, dripping with marble and gold leaf, which they seem to have hired out completely for the ceremony and guests. 

If Mo Ran thought Song Qitong was showing him some kind of special treatment by inviting him to the wedding, he’s soon proven wrong. All of the Xues also managed to snag an invitation, as did Chu Wanning, roughly half of the other drivers on the circuit, and multiple random celebrities. It suits Mo Ran just fine; hundreds of guests mean he doesn’t have to get too close to the happy couple. 

He’s mostly decided that sabotaging his ex’s wedding to the heir of the Rufeng empire wouldn’t be great for his already delicate public image, so Mo Ran spends most of the day privately estimating how much different aspects of the whole thing cost, from the towering flower arrangements to the bespoke menu cooked by a celebrity chef, and feeling bitter about all of it. 

In the end he outsourced his outfit to a stylist, who produced a tuxedo in a deep, blood-red velvet that’s just distinctive enough that Mo Ran can pretend people are looking at him because of it, and not because he’s the ex-boyfriend. 

Chu Wanning has also scrubbed up well, in a tuxedo sharply tailored in a way that somehow emphasises his waist. He’s seated with the Xues on a table on the other side of the room from Mo Ran. Mo Ran supposes it makes sense that they aren’t seated on the same table, since everyone knows they hate each other, but at the same time Mo Ran can’t stop looking round at him all through the meal, barely making an effort to answer the questions fired at him by the giggly women on his own table. 

It’s a nightmare. How is Mo Ran supposed to carry on his plan to trick Chu Wanning into thinking he is a decent person like this? He thinks about Chu Wanning’s sleeping head slowly falling to rest on his shoulder, watches Chu Wanning laugh at Xue Meng’s joke across the room and feels a stab of violent jealousy that he takes out on a piece of braised pork. It should be Mo Ran making him laugh, Mo Ran slipping an arm around that slim waist and leaning in —

Mo Ran downs the rest of his drink and tops himself up. If there’s any occasion when it’s acceptable for him to get drunk, surely it’s his ex girlfriend’s wedding.

---

“— and then Chu Wanning told Xue Zhengyong that I’d been outperforming the car all season and that I deserved a real chance! Can you believe it?”

“Wow.” Ye Wangxi says, dryly. “Sounds like a real asshole,”

“Yes!” Mo Ran starts, finally validated. “I knew you would understand. You know, you’re the only one I respect.” Then he sees the look on her face and frowns. Is she being sarcastic? 

“I’m being sarcastic, idiot.” 

“What do you mean?” Mo Ran and Ye Wangxi are sat together on the outskirts of the dance floor, passing a bottle of top-shelf baijiu between them. Mo Ran has respected Ye Wangxi since the first time she beat him in a race when they were kids. They’ve both had to fight harder than anyone else to get where they are. It's a shame she went to Rufeng, but even Mo Ran can admit it seems to have suited her. Mo Ran would never drive for Rufeng, not even if they had a car that could fucking teleport into pole position.

Ye Wangxi snorts and takes a long pull from the bottle, handing it back to Mo Ran. “Are you serious? The guy gives away his inheritance to fund your junior driver program and speaks up for you to get a seat. What about that makes him anything other than a decent person?”

“But you don’t understand. Chu Wanning hates me.”

“Oh please, Mo Ran. I get it, I really do. You think I’ve had it easy out there? I know what it's like. You think you don’t belong here, everyone is out to get you. But sometimes you have to accept the good things that come your way for what they really are.” Mo Ran blinks. Ye Wangxi is holding his face in her hands, looking straight into his eyes. She’s also dressed in a tux, her hair freshly buzzed short on the sides. It suits her. She lets him go and turns back to stare at the dance floor. “Thanks, though. It’s nice to know I’m not the only driver in love with my teammate.”

Mo Ran stares at her for a long second. "No. What? No. I'm not in... It's my ex's wedding. Where's Song Qitong? She's the one I-“ Mo Ran looks across the dance floor but can't see her. He knows exactly where Chu Wanning is, sitting almost directly opposite them on the other side of the room. Mo Ran accidentally makes eye contact with him and he looks away immediately. 

Ye Wangxi snorts. "Yeah, you're so in love with her that you're sat here on her wedding day and this is the first time you've mentioned her. And you talked about your rival Chu Wanning for how long?" 

"But. But, that was only because-" because what? Because it has been driving him crazy all day watching Chu Wanning laugh at Xue Meng's jokes and not his own? Because he thought Ye Wangxi might understand what happens when you have a teammate who you never have a hope of ever being better than? Because she knows first-hand the kind of intense feelings that form in the racing pressure cooker? 

"Mo Ran, please get a grip. I say this with all the love in the world, I really do.“ Ye Wangxi leans in and pats him on the cheek again. With her face this close, Mo Ran can appreciate that she is very pretty. He’s always had too much respect for her to try anything. She takes the baijiu from Mo Ran’s unresisting hand, tosses back a long pull and gives it back to him. "Oh, and just so you know, my dick is bigger than yours." Then she winks, stands up, and walks away. 

Mo Ran stares at her, stunned, then down at the bottle. He takes another mouthful and puts it down. It’s nice to know I’m not the only driver in love with my teammate. He can't believe someone as smart as Ye Wangxi could be so confused about something so obvious. He looks up across the dance floor just in time to see Chu Wanning slipping through one of the doors behind him to the terrace outside. 

Mo Ran doesn't know what he's doing, but suddenly it's very important that he speaks to Chu Wanning, right now. He pushes his way across the dance floor. If he goes outside and speaks to Chu Wanning now, he can prove Ye Wangxi wrong. 

---

Outside of the aggressively air-conditioned ballroom, the air is hot and thick; it hits Mo Ran in the face. The night is dark, Mo Ran doesn't see anyone else out here but himself and Chu Wanning, leaning against the wall and staring out into the darkness. He looks around when he hears Mo Ran close the door behind him. "What are you doing here? Go back inside."

He says it in that same brusque tone that he says everything to Mo Ran. Mo Ran doesn't listen to him. He leans against the wall next to Chu Wanning, looking at him. With the doors closed all they can hear from the dance-floor inside is a muffled baseline. Fuck, he’s drunk. He came out here with some vague intention to prove Ye Wangxi wrong, but now he's alone with Chu Wanning, whatever certainty he had that this was a good idea has evaporated. 

"Do you hate me?" Mo Ran says. The words are out of his mouth almost before he knows he's saying them. 

Chu Wanning stares at him. “Of course I don't hate you, Mo Ran."

"Why not?" Mo Ran isn't a particularly good person. Why shouldn't Chu Wanning hate him? Mo Ran almost wishes he did, it would be simpler, expected. 

Chu Wanning stares at him, mouth open, looking like he wants to reply but doesn't know what to say. His hair is messed up, like it sometimes is after a race, like he's dragged his hand through the gel that normally holds it in place. 

It’s nice to know I’m not the only driver in love with my teammate. What if Ye Wangxi was right? But no, Mo Ran has been in love before, he knows what it feels like. He was pathetically in love with Shi Mei for years, too scared to ever make his move because he always thought Shi Mei was too good for him. And with Song Qitong… he loved the way she made him feel, the way she looked on his arm. 

It’s completely different with Chu Wanning. His emotions are messy, violent, and possessive. There’s a kind of anger, a need for attention, to provoke a reaction by any means necessary. And also… Out of nowhere comes the memory of Chu Wanning’s sleeping head dropping onto his shoulder, and the tender, delicate thing that swelled in his chest. He pushes that away. 

There’s a simple way to settle this. 

The kiss at first is more Mo Ran pressing his lips into Chu Wanning's while Chu Wanning stands there frozen. Mo Ran takes a step towards him and brings a hand up to Chu Wanning's jaw, and then at least Chu Wanning relaxes enough to let himself be kissed. 

Mo Ran presses him into the wall with his other hand on Chu Wanning's waist and just the hint of a thigh between his legs. His mouth was already open when Mo Ran lunged for it, now it's soft with a gasp of surprise. Mo Ran swipes his tongue inside, just for a second, then he pulls back and looks at Chu Wanning, who is still frozen, mouth slack. 

Mo Ran is aware that up until now there were some thoughts in his head, something that wasn't his hand on Chu Wanning's waist, that wasn't the feeling of Chu Wanning’s lips against his. But he can no longer grasp what it was. He kisses Chu Wanning again, breathing in his scent, flicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, kissing him thoroughly, scratching his fingernails at the nape of his neck. Heat thrums between his legs, he's half-hard already. 

When they next break apart Chu Wanning's mouth follows, like he doesn't want it to end, he makes an unconscious, bereft sound. Fuck it. Mo Ran is no longer thinking clearly, he's barely thinking at all. “I want you,” he says into Chu Wanning’s ear, because now it’s occurred to him that it’s possible to have Chu Wanning like this, Mo Ran does want him, at this moment he’s never wanted anything more. 

He’s close enough to feel the answering shiver that runs through Chu Wanning’s body, the small nod into Mo Ran’s neck. 

---

They end up in Mo Ran’s room, Chu Wanning pressed to the bed, tie undone, shirt untucked and unbuttoned. It's an intoxicating image. Mo Ran kneels over him, they're still kissing, Mo Ran can feel Chu Wanning's racing heart. 

They had to stop kissing to get up here, blinking in the well-lit lobby as they waited for the elevator like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Then, when they were alone in the elevator Mo Ran grabbed the lapels of Chu Wanning’s jacket and pulled him close, the expression on Chu Wanning’s face slightly surprised, as if he’d even managed to convince himself that nothing out of the ordinary was happening, the kiss outside was just something he’d dreamed up, and they were just two colleagues who just happened to sharing an elevator. 

Mo Ran himself is only about 70% sure he isn’t dreaming, the most convincing factor being that he never would have dreamed Chu Wanning could be like this: this easy to push onto his bed, this responsive to Mo Ran’s touch. 

Mo Ran feels less drunk than he was outside, but still intoxicated enough to follow through on what his sober brain might have tried to tell him is an exceptionally bad idea. He can't stop now, it’s too late, the point of no return is long passed. He's tasted blood and his jaws have locked; he's not going to let go of Chu Wanning. 

Long, wet kisses. Mo Ran moves down to his neck and uses his tongue, Chu Wanning's chest heaving beneath him. Mo Ran’s hand slides to the small of his back, he grinds again into Chu Wanning's crotch and is rewarded by a hitch in his breath and Chu Wanning's hands spasming where they're clutching Mo Ran's shirt. Chu Wanning's skin is smooth and warm, soft over the solid muscles of his core. The only sound in the room is their breath and the wet sounds of Mo Ran’s tongue on his neck. Mo Ran wants to put his hands around his waist, Mo Ran wants to see him naked, Mo Ran wants to swallow him whole. 

Chu Wanning brings a hand up to Mo Ran’s hair and pulls him off. Mo Ran lets him, looks up at his face which is pink cheeked and his lips are bitten red. "What—? Why—?” There's a few false starts before Chu Wanning hits on what he wants to say. “Mo Ran, we can't do this."

"Why not?" Mo Ran asks, sliding the hand that was cradling the small of Chu Wanning's back up to rest on one nipple, just resting there, petting it gently with his thumb. "You don't like it?" 

He very obviously does like it. Mo Ran doesn’t think he's ever been with anyone so responsive. All they've done is make out and Chu Wanning already looks debacuhed, face flushed, nipples peaked, eyes wide. 

"We're teammates," Chu Wanning says weakly. Mo Ran feels the effort he's making to hold himself still and not twitch at Mo Ran’s thumb, now circling his nipple with a little more force. 

"Do you want me to stop?" Mo Ran asks. 

No answer. Without breaking eye contact, Mo Ran moves down and starts flicking the nipple he’s been toying with with his tongue. Chu Wanning’s head falls back onto the pillows, mouth open. Grinning, Mo Ran grazes the velvety skin lightly with his teeth, then closes his lips around it and sucks. Chu Wanning jerks up, the hand still in Mo Ran’s hair tightening, but not pulling. Mo Ran breaks away to grin. “So sensitive.”

He moves his mouth to Chu Wanning's other nipple, still playing with the first between his fingers. How long could he stay like this, he wonders, would Chu Wanning let him spend all night mapping out the spots that make him shudder, the kinds of touches that make him jump? 

Mo Ran has a sudden fantasy of tying him up and teasing him, reducing him to incoherence with nothing but Mo Ran’s hands and tongue. Then he grinds his thigh between Chu Wanning’s legs and makes him gasp in a different way, and then that fantasy disappears and he’s sitting up to unbuckle Chu Wanning’s belt, pull his pants lower. Chu Wanning pushes himself up on his elbows, lifts his hips obediently when Mo Ran prompts him, blinking down at Mo Ran, breathing fast. 

“Wait,” he says, just as Mo Ran is about to remove him of his underwear — thin, white briefs that do nothing to conceal the modest erection straining at the fabric. Mo Ran pauses, hands on his thighs, the crease of his hips. Chu Wanning swallows. “I’ve never—” he breaks off.

“You’ve never been with a man before?” Mo Ran prompts, trying to keep his voice even. If you’d asked him two days ago he wouldn’t have said virginity was a particular turn-on of his, and yet the thought occurs to him that he might be the first person to introduce Chu Wanning to the joys of prostate stimulation and he almost comes right there.

“…with anyone,” Chu Wanning says, in a rush, like if he says it fast enough Mo Ran won’t notice.

“Oh,” Mo Ran says, while his mind races. Sure, Mo Ran said all that stuff about Chu Wanning not fucking to Rong Jiu, but he didn’t ever really believe it was true. How is it even possible to be an F1 driver and a virgin? He’s giving them all a bad name. Mo Ran deflowering his teammate is practically a public service. He presses a kiss to Chu Wanning’s inner thigh. “Do you want me to be gentle?”

It’s fun to watch Chu Wanning try and come up with an answer to that. “Just-” he manages, finally, “just do whatever you want!” 

Mo Ran smiles into Chu Wanning’s skin and turns the kiss into a bite, just a little nip, not hard enough to leave a mark. He pulls Chu Wanning’s underwear away and throws it behind him, settling in between his spread thighs.

Despite what Chu Wanning said, Mo Ran is gentle at first, kissing the tip of his cock, hot and already wet, and then licking a broad stroke on the underside. Chu Wanning is twisting the bedsheets at his sides with a white-knuckled grip. “Stop looking at me like that,” he hisses, as Mo Ran takes a moment to slide two of his own fingers slowly in and out of his mouth. 

“Like what?” Mo Ran says, blinking up at Chu Wanning as innocently as he can manage, before sucking his cock into his mouth properly and teasing Chu Wanning’s ass with a hint of saliva-slick fingers without looking away. 

His cock is small enough that Mo Ran can fit all of it in his mouth with no real skill, and by the time Mo Ran does so, he can already taste the bitter flavour of Chu Wanning’s arousal on his tongue. He bobs his head up and down Chu Wanning's cock, taking his time, teasing his ass with his saliva-slicked fingers. He's just about worked the tip of one inside when the tone of Chu Wanning's moans changes and he scrabbles at the back of Mo Ran’s head.

"I'm going to— Oh, Mo Ran—“ 

Mo Ran stays where he is as Chu Wanning comes, swallowing him down and feeling the waves of pleasure move through his body. Fuck, his ass is so tight, the way he clenches down on Mo Ran's single finger is enough to have Mo Ran seeing stars. I'm going to fuck him, Mo Ran promises to himself, though he knows that now is not the right time. 

When he raises his head Chu Wanning is staring down at him, blinking wet eyes, flushed blotchy pink in his cheeks and down to his chest. Mo Ran can see the indent mark of his teeth on his forearm where he bit it in the heat of the moment. He's fucking gorgeous. I'm going to fuck him, Mo Ran thinks to himself, again, slightly delirious with arousal. 

Mo Ran slips his finger out of Chu Wanning's ass and lunges up to take his face in his hands and kiss him, letting him taste the lingering flavour of his own come on Mo Ran’s tongue. He’s tempted to spit into Chu Wanning’s mouth, but manages to restrain himself. After a moment, Chu Wanning pushes him away with a hand to the middle of Mo Ran’s chest, "What about… you?” He manages to say, glancing significantly down towards Mo Ran’s crotch. 

Mo Ran is still dressed in his shirt and trousers, jacket thrown somewhere on the floor in the first frenzy when they came in. It’s not like him to be so focused on someone else’s pleasure that he forgets his own. He jumps off the bed and strips naked, smirking at where Chu Wanning's eyes go when he peels down his boxers. He’s already hard but he gives himself a few strokes with his hand, lazily, watching Chu Wanning's face. "Like what you see?" Chu Wanning somehow manages to go even redder trying to answer him before Mo Ran takes pity and crawls back onto the bed. "Turn over." 

After a moment's hesitation, Chu Wanning swallows and rolls onto his front, but looking apprehensively over his shoulder as Mo Ran moves towards him. God, his back, his cute little ass, Mo Ran runs his hands down his sides, the compact muscle of his core, spreading his hands around the span of his waist. He’s never going to be able to look at Chu Wanning in a race suit again without thinking about this, of Chu Wanning bare, spread out beneath him. 

“Are you going to—?” Chu Wanning is still looking back over his shoulder, face somewhere between anticipation and apprehension.

"Am I going to...?" Mo Ran echoes, grinding down just a little into the cleft of Chu Wanning's ass, letting him feel the full length of his cock. "Am I going to fuck you? Is that what you’re asking?” One more thrust and then he pulls away. “Maybe next time.” Yes, when he fucks Chu Wanning he wants to take his time, he wants to be thorough. Instead he positions himself lying next to Chu Wanning on his side, pulling Chu Wanning onto his side too so Chu Wanning is tucked next to him in a little-spoon position, and Mo Ran can lean over and kiss him while he slides his cock between his thighs. “Tighten up for me, baby.”

This time Mo Ran isn’t gentle, it’s not in his nature, especially like this. He grips Chu Wanning’s hip, moves his body to meet Mo Ran’s thrusts, the room fills with sound of skin slapping on skin, Chu Wanning’s little gasps and Mo Ran’s stream of consciousness whenever they aren’t kissing, “It’s so hot inside you baby, you feel so good.” Mo Ran is big enough that when he thrusts, the tip of his cock slides along the underside of Chu Wanning’s, and he gets hard again. Mo Ran moves his hand to cup them both, pleasure building to a peak. He comes hard, spilling all over the inside of Chu Wanning's thighs, and Chu Wanning makes a ragged, wounded noise and it only takes a couple more seconds of Mo Ran stroking his thumb along Chu Wanning’s cock before he’s coming again, and they collapse down onto the bed, breathing heavily. 

---

Mo Ran wakes up alone.

He wakes with a jerk from a mess of confused dreams, sits up staring around him, taking in the empty bed, his clothes strewn over the floor, the sunlight streaming in through the window, until the pieces of his surroundings last night slide into place. 

Mo Ran stumbles to the bathroom and into the shower, standing blankly under the spray. He can’t stop the events of last night from replaying over and over in his mind. Ye Wangxi and the baijiu (how much of that bottle had they drunk?), what she had said to him, pressing Chu Wanning against the wall outside, kissing him, and bringing him upstairs, Chu Wanning naked, flushed, his choked-off little gasps of pleasure. Mo Ran doesn’t remember him leaving, he must have snuck out in the night. 

First Song Qitong, the mess with the dick size ranking story, then learning the truth about Shi Mei and now this. Now Chu Wanning. Even before last night he’d been trying to get Chu Wanning to think he was a good person. Was this just the next move in Chu Wanning’s plan to interfere with Mo Ran’s performance on track — seduce Mo Ran by being so submissive and breedable that Mo Ran couldn't resist? Ye Wangxi said he was in love, but that can’t be right. What does Ye Wangxi know? They’re just teammates, that’s all. They’re rivals, it’s normal to feel this way about your teammate. Surely they can’t be the first drivers to have fucked? 

This is not quite how he had pictured his rookie F1 year going. He tries to get his thoughts straight. 

Mo Ran groans and bangs his head against the tile. It’s all a distraction, a distraction Mo Ran can’t afford. Mo Ran knows he should be focusing on his driving, but he’s not going to kid himself. He knows there’s no way he can sacrifice the chance to fully devirginify Chu Wanning along with carbohydrates and his regular social life. 
 

---

WUCHANG: HOME OF SHISHENG F1 TEAM

The next time he sees Chu Wanning is back at Shisheng HQ. They have a meeting together with Xue Zhengyong and the other members of the race team in preparation for the next half of the season. Mo Ran tries his best to pay his full attention, but he can’t stop staring at Chu Wanning over the table. Is that a hickey just under his collar? Did Mo Ran put that there? The thought of someone else’s hands on Chu Wanning gives him a violent stab of jealousy to the chest.

For his part, Chu Wanning doesn’t meet Mo Ran’s eyes even once during the whole meeting. He seems to be looking everywhere in the room apart from at Mo Ran. Mo Ran grits his teeth and barely hears a single word being said.

After the meeting is over, Mo Ran waits in the parking lot, leaning on Chu Wanning’s sleek, black sports car in what he hopes is a casual manner. It’s a nice little car, older and less showy than Mo Ran’s electric blue monstrosity, but still a good machine. Mo Ran is too lost in thought to register how long he stands there waiting. When Chu Wanning spots him there, he hesitates. For a second it looks like he wants to turn around,  but Mo Ran has seen him now, and the car is his only way out. 

“What do you want?” Chu Wanning asks, in a tone that Mo Ran would have previously described as 'dismissive', but now he thinks a better guess would be wary, like he’s afraid of getting too close. 

“I think you know what I want,” Mo Ran says. “I think you want it too.” 

Chu Wanning, to his credit, doesn’t try to deny it. He closes his eyes and takes a breath to compose himself. “We’re going to your place,” he says, and unlocks the car doors with the fob in his pocket. 

Mo Ran grins. “Fine by me.”

Sitting in the passenger seat, Mo Ran watches Chu Wanning drive, his hand on the gear change as he smoothly eases the car forward. He’s seen him drive from the outside before, of course, but this is the first time they’ve been in a car together, and his skill is impressive even driving a road car like this. 

Chu Wanning glances over at him and frowns. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” Mo Ran says, enjoying the way Chu Wanning shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable in the full beam of Mo Ran’s attention. “I’m watching the way you drive. It’s hot.”

Chu Wanning splutters, looking back and forth again between the road and Mo Ran. When he reaches out for the gear stick he snatches his hand back as soon as he can, as if he’s suddenly become aware of its erotic potential. “How can you be so... so shameless?” 

Mo Ran lets his smile grow. “Oh, I’m naturally gifted.”

The rest of the drive passes in a silence that becomes more and more fraught the closer they get to Mo Ran’s apartment building. 

---

Mo Ran pushes Chu Wanning onto his hands and knees on the bed, naked, his cock hard. He was hard when Mo Ran pressed him against the door the moment they entered and kissed him mean, biting his lip, his other hand squeezing his crotch through his khaki slacks. Mo Ran is naked too, their clothes are scattered all over the apartment, Mo Ran pulled them off as they stumbled to the bedroom. His own cock has been hard since the drive over here just from watching Chu Wanning drive, but he’s never going to admit it. 

Fuck. Mo Ran just about manages to control himself so he doesn’t smack Chu Wanning’s bare ass, or lean down and put his tongue inside it. He’s been steadily losing his mind ever since he realised this was going to happen, but he doesn’t want to scare Chu Wanning away too soon. Somewhere in the back of Mo Ran's mind he's dimly aware that they still have to be colleagues after this is over. 

Instead, Mo Ran leans over him and kisses his shoulder blades, teases the crease of his ass and slips one finger inside, slick with lube so it goes easier than before. Fuck, he's still so tight though. "Relax, baby." Mo Ran teases his rim with another finger, pushes it into him and finds his prostate in short order, making Chu Wanning let out a long moan and fall forward onto his elbows, burying his face in Mo Ran’s pillows. They’ve barely said a word to each other since they left the car, it seems there’s no discussion needed. Chu Wanning’s body is speaking for him — and he’s just as eager for it as Mo Ran. 

“Fucking look at you,” Mo Ran says, dazed, as he fucks Chu Wanning on his fingers nice and slow, teasing his prostate. “You want this. You’ve been a little slut this whole time, haven’t you?” Chu Wanning is a dream, just like the last time, except now Mo Ran has more time to contemplate the tight, wet heat of Chu Wanning’s body around his fingers, and how his cock might feel inside it. He has to take a deep breath to try and calm himself down. 

He drags his fingers slowly in and out until the slide is easy, and Chu Wanning adjusts his hips and the angle change makes him gasp, look up and snap, pink faced, “What are you waiting for?” As if Mo Ran needs the encouragement. He fumbles around for a condom before Chu Wanning looks around again and says, “You don’t— you don’t have to. Use one of those.”

It’s a testament to how much blood has gone from his brain to his dick at that moment that Mo Ran only replies, “Okay,” in a strained kind of voice, as he slicks his cock and lines himself up. He keeps Chu Wanning on his knees at first, leaning back to see the dusky pink of his hole as he presses his cock inside, watching it stretch around him. “That’s it, relax,” Mo Ran says when he’s about half way in, and Chu Wanning makes a ragged noise and drops his head back into the pillows.

He takes it all. When Mo Ran is fully inside he pauses for a second, acclimatising, swearing softly to himself, breathing and running his hands over every bit of Chu Wanning’s skin he can reach, his thighs, his ass, his balls and his cock, hard and wet at the tip. He can feel Chu Wanning move, feel him breathe, shit, he’s so fucking tight. 

“Fuck, fuck,” he starts to thrust slowly, in and out, just a few inches at first. “Wanning, Wanning. You like it. You want me to fill you up? I’m going to— oh fuck—” the hot, slick heat of Chu Wanning’s body feels electric. Mo Ran fucks him properly, burying himself inside again and again. He never wants to stop, he wants to carve a space inside him, feel Chu Wanning clench around his fist, never leave him empty. 

Chu Wanning makes filthy noises into the pillow, hands moving from the sheets to his own hair and back as Mo Ran fucks him. But no, this isn’t right. Mo Ran needs to see his face. Let Chu Wanning see who’s fucking him, who’s making him feel this good. 

He pulls out, Chu Wanning makes a wordless, confused noise as he does so, but doesn’t protest as he lets Mo Ran arrange his limbs, blinking up with wet eyes. “I’ll give it to you baby, don’t worry,” Mo Ran shushes him as he turns him over and presses him into the mattress, fumbling one shaking hand to the crease of a knee, moving his leg up to hold him open so he can fuck back in, and the other hand pinning both of Chu Wanning’s wrists. There’s nowhere to hide like this, Mo Ran watches Chu Wanning’s expression of breathless pleasure as he pushes back in. Look at me, Mo Ran thinks, I’m the one making you feel this way. I’m the only one.

Mo Ran imprints the sight of him like this onto his memory, Chu Wanning crying out, tears forming in his eyes, the sound of his moans, of the rhythmic sound of their bodies, the feeling of his teeth sinking into the meat of Mo Ran’s shoulder and biting down as he comes on Mo Ran’s cock. Fuck, Mo Ran’s brain goes white. He manages to hold on, fuck Chu Wanning through the last of his shivery aftershocks before — “Gonna come inside you,” he says, and Chu Wanning nods as Mo Ran does, fills him up, the pleasure shaking him to his core, remaking him. 

---

In the aftermath they rearrange themselves so Mo Ran is lying below Chu Wanning, who has his face turned away from Mo Ran, cheek resting on his chest. Mo Ran’s fingers are absent-mindedly dipping lightly into Chu Wanning’s ass, feeling his own come slipping out of the place where he fucked Chu Wanning loose. He holds himself so still he barely breathes, as if this will trick Chu Wanning into not noticing what he’s doing with his hand. 

But slowly, impossibly, Chu Wanning’s breathing slows and evens out and Mo Ran realises with a bolt of horror that he’s dozed off. He’s suddenly even more hyper aware of his own movements, how still he has to be not to disturb the man drooling onto his pec. 

Mo Ran lies there staring at the ceiling, feeling every inch of Chu Wanning’s bare skin pressing against his. He’s aware that they both need to shower, but for once Mo Ran isn’t trying to go faster. He’s going to savour this moment. 

When Chu Wanning stirs after a few minutes and becomes aware that he’s been drooling onto Mo Ran’s chest, only then does Mo Ran move, ushering them both into the bathroom and under the wider shower head. There — fuck it, why not? — they have their second round, slower this time and quieter, Mo Ran gripping tight onto Chu Wanning’s hips as he rests his head on his arms on the tile. Chu Wanning taking it like it’s what he was fucking born to do. 

By the time they’ve finished, washed properly and got dry, it’s dark outside. Mo Ran walks him to the door, his thoughts going to the kitchen and the sad, still-wrapped cooking equipment. He could order some ingredients, maybe make Chu Wanning a proper meal. It’s been too long since he cooked for someone.

Chu Wanning clears his throat, interrupting Mo Ran’s thoughts before he can say anything. “If we carry on with... this,” Chu Wanning says, drawing himself up before Mo Ran’s eyes into Chu Wanning-the-F1 driver, somehow seeming to grow a few centimetres and his eyes hardening. “It's just a physical connection. It doesn't have to mean anything.”

Mo Ran comes crashing down to reality. “Yeah. Of course.” Cooking him dinner? Stupid. Of course Chu Wanning would never want him in any other way than physical. “See you,” Mo Ran says, lamely. They don’t kiss. Mo Ran ignores the queasy feeling at the bottom of his stomach. 

---

AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX: QUALIFYING

It’s a shock how different it feels to be back on track in Sydney. So much has happened that Mo Ran feels like he’s been away for months rather than just a few weeks. It’s good to be back, though. He promises himself no more distractions. This is what he was made to do. 

Practice yesterday wasn’t terrible, and today the car still seems to be behaving. Mo Ran loses himself in the course, drowns out Xue Meng’s voice in his ear until he finishes his fastest lap and Xue Meng is whooping over the radio.  “That’s P4! Well done, dog! I almost don’t believe it.”

“You better believe it,” Mo Ran says automatically, but secretly he’s surprised as well. He deserves this, he tells himself, it’s just his hard work paying off. 

After the car is safely away with the pit team, Xue Meng claps him on the shoulder. “Seriously, well done today. I thought after the wedding and all that stuff… well. You might not be on top form this week. But—”

“Wait,” Mo Ran interrupts him, a jolt of panic in his gut. “What stuff at the wedding? What are you talking about?”

Xue Meng blinks slowly at him. “When your ex-girlfriend got married…? To Nangong Si…?”

“Oh,” says Mo Ran, relaxing. “Yeah, right. That stuff.” It’s stupid of him to panic. Of course Xue Meng doesn’t know about him and Chu Wanning. How could he? There’s nothing to know. Just two regular teammates who don’t have any particularly strong feelings about each other one way or the other. Which is definitely why Mo Ran jerked off in the shower last night to the thought of getting Chu Wanning in his lap and bouncing him on his cock until he came. 

“…he came in eighth today, by the way,” Xue Meng is saying, “I hope that steering problem they were having has come back.”

“Who? Chu Wanning?” 

“No!” Xue Meng looks offended that Mo Ran even suggested he would wish ill on Chu Wanning. “Nangong Si, obviously. I think you really have a shot at the podium tomorrow. Chu-laoshi came in sixth.”

Mo Ran nods. The news that he beat Chu Wanning should have put him over the moon — before the break it would have done. And he is happy, but there’s another voice in his head wondering what’s wrong with Chu Wanning and whether he’s okay. He tries to shut it down. 

“Hey, listen,” Xue Meng glances around to make sure there’s no one around to overhear them. “What I told you about Chu-laoshi the other week, you didn’t say anything to him, did you? It’s just that he’s a really private person… if he didn’t want it going public it was for a reason, and he’d hate it if he knew anyone was talking about his secrets behind his back.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Mo Ran promises Xue Meng, at the same time fighting to ignore a memory of Chu Wanning moaning as Mo Ran kisses his neck.  

Xue Meng nods. “Thanks, Mo Ran. You might be dumb dog but I knew you’d understand.”

Mo Ran didn’t say anything, and he has no plans to in the future. In fact, he has no plans to ever be alone with Chu Wanning again. Mo Ran is good enough to make him come, but not for anything else? Didn’t he already decide he didn’t need any more distractions with Rong Jiu?

His resolve is strong. Until he gets a message around 10pm that night. 

>Are you awake?

Mo Ran stares at it on his phone screen for a few long minutes. He locks the screen, puts the phone on the bedside table, face down and stares at the ceiling. Then he picks it up and checks it again, just to make sure he hadn’t hallucinated what he’s 85% sure is a booty call from Chu Wanning. 

He should ignore it. He’ll regret it if he doesn’t. He doesn’t need Chu Wanning. He already got Chu Wanning out of his system! How many times does he have to tell himself that until it starts being true? He might not need Chu Wanning, but he wants him. 

And fuck, the thought of uptight, cold Chu Wanning needing Mo Ran’s cock so much, being so hot for Mo Ran that he stoops to a booty call is electrifying. Mo Ran pictures him bare under the sheets of the huge hotel bed. Maybe he’s already worked up,  cock hard in his hand but it’s not enough, he needs someone to push him around, someone to fill him up. 

Fuck it. 

>What’s ur room number — Mo Ran replies, already getting up to pull on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Chu Wanning is online and typing, he sends his reply instantly.  

---

Chu Wanning’s room looks like his suitcase has exploded inside it. There are clothes and bits of tech, tools and engine parts scattered all over every flat surface. Mo Ran is momentarily distracted by the mess, so much so that he stops in the doorway as Chu Wanning pulls him inside. “What happened in here?”

“What do you mean?” Chu Wanning says, moving to push a pile of nuts and bolts from the bed covers to clear a space for them. He turns to stare at Mo Ran expectantly, on his feet at the edge of the bed, like his courage has suddenly failed him now, only after booty calling Mo Ran and answering the door fresh out of the shower, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that falls to his thighs.

Mo Ran by now has some idea of how Chu Wanning wants this to go. “Get on the bed,” Mo Ran says, leaning against the wall and making no move to touch him. “Take the t-shirt off and lie on your stomach.” He waits for Chu Wanning to do as he’s told. Which he does, eventually. It’s a matter of seconds for Mo Ran to step out of his sweatpants and unzip his hoodie and join him on the bed. Would he let Mo Ran fuck him tonight? The night before a Grand Prix? Mo Ran has other plans, but he imagines fucking him hard and leaving him sore, enough that he feels it tomorrow and with every jolt, every vibration from the engine, he can't help but think of Mo Ran. 

Mo Ran runs his hands from Chu Wanning’s shoulders down to his ass. This time he is unable to resist smacking it, just a light slap on one side, but it’s enough to shock a delicious half-offended, half-turned-on noise from Chu Wanning. Mo Ran hums and bends to sink his teeth into where his hand just landed. He bites harder, leaving a satisfying mark in the shape of his teeth, first white and bloodless, then red. Mo Ran sits back and watches it bloom for a second. 

“What are you doing?” Chu Wanning says, looking over his shoulder as Mo Ran leans back in, grinning wickedly, and licks a long strip up from the base of Chu Wanning’s balls to his pretty hole. Chu Wanning doesn’t say anything coherent for a long time after that. 

Mo Ran loses time, he isn’t sure how long they stay like that, only that by the time his own arousal becomes too urgent to ignore, Chu Wanning is hitching his hips back into Mo Ran’s face and rubbing himself on the sheets. He seems to have lost all control of his vocal cords, mewling almost constantly into the crook of his arm. Mo Ran thrusts his tongue inside once more for good measure than pulls away. 

He taps Chu Wanning on the thigh. “Hands and knees. Turn around. Come on.” Chu Wanning still doesn’t say anything. He only moves when Mo Ran manipulates his limbs, showing him where to go. They end up with Mo Ran lying back against the pillows, Chu Wanning on his hands and knees spread over Mo Ran’s torso, so his ass is once again in Mo Ran’s face, and his face is right front of — 

“What do you want me to do with that?” Chu Wanning whispers, a delicious hint of his normal, affronted tone creeping in. Mo Ran grabs him by the hips and starts teasing his tongue at his rim again. Chu Wanning is so close to his cock that Mo Ran can feel his breath hitch. 

“Just try your best,” Mo Ran says, always happy to help. “No teeth.”

To his credit, it seems like Chu Wanning does try his best, attempting to make up for lack of experience with determination to prove himself. He presses his lips to Mo Ran’s cock and takes him into his mouth. Mo Ran moans at the feeling, getting a hand on Chu Wanning’s cock and massaging it at the same time as he uses his tongue, making Chu Wanning moan in turn, and they get a good feedback loop going. Until Chu Wanning breaks off and goes rigid in Mo Ran’s grasp, panting. 

“Are you going to come?” Mo Ran pulls away to ask. Chu Wanning answers in a high, urgent noise. “I didn’t say you could stop,” Mo Ran says, wondering how far he can push his luck. “Wanna feel you come while you suck my cock. And even higher answering noise this time, and Chu Wanning does at least muffle the sobs as he comes with as much as Mo Ran as he can manage. The vibrations from his cries and the way his throat seizes up for a second, becoming impossibly tight before he has to pull away is something Mo Ran promises himself he will remember for the rest of his life. 

---

AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX: RACE DAY

Someone banging loudly on the door drags Mo Ran out of sleep. "Chu-laoshi! Chu-laoshi? Are you okay?" It's Xue Meng's voice. Mo Ran sits up in Chu Wanning's bed, surveying the mess of the room in the early morning light. Beside him, Chu Wanning stirs. 

"What the fuck?" Mo Ran mumbles, blinking sleep out of his eyes. "Why is Xue Meng here?" Chu Wanning groans, still half asleep. Fuck. Mo Ran must have passed out here after last night. He's still in Chu Wanning's bed, still naked. 

"Chu-laoshi!" Xue Meng says, very loudly. "You missed our work out this morning! Did you oversleep?"

"You guys work out?" Why didn't Mo Ran know about this? Why wasn't he invited? The injustice distracts him for a moment while Chu Wanning blinks awake and starts pushing him out of bed. 

"Hide," he hisses.

"Just tell him to fuck off," Mo Ran says, looking around the room and finding no immediately obvious hiding place, no conveniently expansive wardrobe. 

Xue Meng knocks on the door again. "Chu-laoshi? Is there someone else in there with you?"

"Get in the bathroom," Chu Wanning hisses again, pulling on some clothes from the floor and heading to the door. Mo Ran sighs and goes to the bathroom, not awake enough to think of getting dressed himself. What time is it? His phone alarm was set last night and it hasn't gone off, it must be early. He yawns. Shit, he really hadn't meant to spend the night here, but in the afterglow Chu Wanning had drifted off to sleep in his arms and Mo Ran couldn’t make himself leave. He still can’t match up the two Chu Wanning’s in his head, the intimidating F1 driver who takes no prisoners, and the needy slut who texts him for a booty call the night before a Grand Prix. When Chu Wanning is sleeping, Mo Ran can almost line them up to be the same person.

In the other room Chu Wanning opens the door and clears his throat. "Sorry, Xue Meng. I didn't sleep very well last night. I needed some extra rest." Their voices are muffled through the bathroom door. Mo Ran is still fuming at the knowledge Xue Meng has been working out with Chu Wanning behind his back. How long has this been going on?

"Oh! Did I wake you up? Sorry Chu-laoshi!" Great. Xue Meng will go now and Mo Ran can stop hiding in a bathroom and get out of Chu Wanning's hair. This is not the ideal start to a Grand Prix day. Mo Ran tries not to be too superstitious so doesn't have too many rituals, but there's still a process to getting in the right headspace. "Hey, while I'm here, can I get that hair gel you borrowed back? I just ran out..." Xue Meng's voice moves closer. Has he barged his way into the room? Sharing hair gel? What the fuck? "It's in the bathroom right?"

Xue Meng's voice is right on the other side of the door. What is Chu Wanning doing, letting him wander around when he knows Mo Ran is in here!? Mo Ran looks around wildly. The shower is all glass, there's nowhere to hide. Even with Mo Ran's highly trained reflexes, he only has a split second to react, grabbing the nearest towel to cover himself. It turns out to be a tiny hand towel, but it's surely better than nothing? He holds it over his cock and balls as the door opens. 

"It's okay, I'll get it-" Xue Meng freezes as he catches sight of Mo Ran standing all but naked in the middle of the room. Mo Ran can almost see the cogs turning in his brain. "...Mo Ran? What are you doing in Chu-laoshi's room? Why are you naked?" He turns back to Chu Wanning, who is red-faced, staring at Mo Ran.

"Why didn't you lock the door?" Chu Wanning hisses, in the same tone he used to get Mo Ran off the bed earlier. 

"Why did you let him in here?" Mo Ran is the last person to blame for this farce. 

"Chu-laoshi? What's going on?" Xue Meng's voice gets progressively higher as he speaks, ending unnaturally sharp. 

"Meng-Meng, stop freaking out," Mo Ran tells him, which of course only makes him freak out harder. "Look, sometimes two adults like each other, they want to spend special time together..."

This does not help. "No! No! W- With Chu-laoshi!? But you don't even like each other? " Xue Meng sinks to the floor in the doorway, shaking his head and for some reason covering his ears, as if it will all be okay if he can block out everything going on around him. Mo Ran tries not to wince at the reminder that they don't like each other and squeezes past Xue Meng to get the bedroom and pick his discarded clothes from the floor.

“He might be like that for a while,” he says to Chu Wanning, nodding at Xue Meng on the floor, who is still shaking his head, now with his eyes squeezed shut.

By the time Xue Meng calms down, all three of them are running late and it’s easy to get swept up in the rush to get everything ready. Mo Ran does his normal work out and breathing exercises, fixing his mind determinedly on the track in front of him and turning his music up loud to erase any wayward thoughts. 

After they left Chu Wanning’s room, Mo Ran swore Xue Meng to secrecy. A promise he’s pretty sure Xue Meng will keep, because he seems to be having a hard time coming to terms with Chu Wanning as an adult man with a sex drive, let alone one who might be partial to what he knows about Mo Ran’s tastes. 

“But is he happy? You need to be careful with him…” Xue Meng had said at one point when Mo Ran tried to explain. 

Mo Ran snorted, “I’m pretty sure Chu Wanning can hold his own. Besides we’re not dating. How did he describe it? It's a purely physical connection.”

And that had been enough to almost send Xue Meng back into the hands-over-the-ears phase. 

All day afterwards, Xue Meng refuses to look Mo Ran in the eyes, and barely says a word to him even when necessary. 

“Radio check,” Mo Ran says when he’s in the car, minutes away from the race start. He waits a few seconds in silence. “Radio check,” Mo Ran repeats. “Hello? Xue Meng, can you-”

“Yes, yes. Loud and clear,” Xue Meng responds finally, in a harried tone. Lucky Mo Ran has faith that he’s at least professional enough not to let it affect his performance once the lights go out. 

---

AUSTRALIAN GRAND PRIX -> INDIAN GRAND PRIX -> HUNGARIAN GRAND PRIX -> CANADIAN GRAND PRIX

P3 in Melbourne. 

Mo Ran flies when he realises it’s going to happen, when it really solidifies that it’s his, half a lap to the finish and Xue Meng confirms the pace of the Mei twin behind him isn’t fast enough to get close. He flies through the final turns, the straight and he can see the finish, and it’s his. His first podium. 

“You did it, dog!” Xue Meng is screaming over the radio, so caught up in the excitement it seems like he really has forgotten everything that happened this morning. “You really did it!”

Mo Ran finishes the race in a daze, getting out of the car feeling light and unsteady, like a breeze could lift him off the earth and blow him away into the sky. He really did it. Granted, he had gotten lucky with a collision taking out some of the main competitors behind him, and then the rest getting stuck behind a safety car, plus a lucky bit of pit stop timing on the team’s end… but that’s the sport. And Mo Ran’s just got his first podium.

Even if it does mean sharing it with Nangong Si and one of the Mei twins, Mo Ran will take it. He searches for Chu Wanning in the cheering crowd, but can’t find him. He came in P6 today, not bad for anyone else but below his usual standard. Mo Ran catches himself wondering how the race was for Chu Wanning and shakes his head. Why should he care? What happens in the bedroom and what happens on the track are completely different things. Today Mo Ran beat Chu Wanning on track, and last night he felt him come as he sucked Mo Ran’s cock. Both of those things are good… 

Mo Ran can’t remember where he was going with that train of thought. A spray of Champagne brings him back to the present and reminds him that he should be enjoying the moment and looking sexy, not brooding over his teammate. 

Incredibly, Mo Ran’s luck holds. The next few races towards the end of the season are hard-fought, hard-won battles as Mo Ran sneaks his way up the leaderboard. After his start to the season, he’s not in the running for the Driver’s Championship, but every extra point proves his worth to Shisheng and guarantees his security for next year. Plus there’s the prize money. And winning feels really, really fucking good.

Not that he does all out win, he gets another podium in Hungary, P2 this time, but first place is still elusive. Strangely it doesn’t bother him all that much. The constant drive to go faster is still there, but his good luck has taken the edge off, and he can appreciate the thrill of a well-fought race now, even when it ends in P5. 

After so long nipping at Chu Wanning’s metaphorical heels, it’s strange that beating him on track becomes a regular occurrence. It’s almost as if his star dimmed as Mo Ran’s rose. Mo Ran isn’t sure why. He’s vaguely aware of car troubles, something not being quite right that Chu Wanning—even Chu Wanning— taking it out and reinstalling in line with his own exacting standards can’t fix. 

Mo Ran is only dimly aware of it though, because he doesn’t ask. If Chu Wanning is disappointed with his results on track, if the stress of the relentless travel, training schedule and media spotlight are getting to him, he doesn’t tell Mo Ran about it. There are a few times Mo Ran considers bringing it up, in the quiet periods after they fuck and before Mo Ran forces himself back to his own room — he always makes sure to go back to his own room now — but in the end he keeps his mouth shut. 

They don’t talk at all, really; it’s just like the first half of the season except now Mo Ran knows how Chu Wanning likes to be fucked so he can feel it the next day, and the specific choked-off gasp he makes right before he comes on Mo Ran’s cock. 

---

BRAZILIAN GRAND PRIX: RACE DAY

“What did you do?” Mo Ran’s good mood is deflated by Xue Meng storming up to him in the middle of the paddock after the race, as angry as Mo Ran has ever seen him. “What did you do?” He demands again. 

“I don’t know what you’re—” Mo Ran tries, but Xue Meng cuts him off.

“To Chu-laoshi. What did you do? Why has he just told my dad that he wants to retire?”

“What? I didn’t…” do anything. Had he? Nothing out of the ordinary, or the new ordinary that has been in place for the last few months, anyway. “Are you sure?” Chu Wanning had just come back from an injury this year, doing well consistently — despite a bit of a late season drop in this half to the year. But surely that’s not enough to make him want to throw away his whole career?
 
“Yes I’m sure!” Xue Meng says, voice wavering in a way that makes Mo Ran scared he’s going to burst into tears. “Dad told him to go away and think about it, so nothing’s certain yet, but it sounded like his mind was made up. What did you do?”

Mo Ran doesn’t have the patience to interrogate why Xue Meng is so convinced this must be his fault. “I have to go.”

Mo Ran’s mind is in turmoil the entire way back to the hotel, jamming the call elevator button impatiently when he finally arrives. He knows what room Chu Wanning is staying in because it’s where he spent a significant portion of last night teaching him to jerk Mo Ran off the way he likes it. He’s self-aware enough to know that he’s not having a rational reaction right now, but not to do anything with that information. Chu Wanning retiring? It’s not fair. It’s not… allowed. Chu Wanning isn't allowed to go anywhere. Mo Ran isn’t finished with him yet.  

He’s angry. So angry it takes him by surprise. Random obscene images of Chu Wanning are playing out in his head, some from the past few months and others from the depths of Mo Ran’s fantasies. Mo Ran is possessed by the need to keep him, to hold him down and make him beg, to hurt him, to force all the answers that Mo Ran will never get out of his mouth. Force him to admit… what? That all this meant something. That Mo Ran… 

Fuck. Ye Wangxi was right. 

---

“Wanning!” Mo Ran batters the door with his fist. “Wanning, open the door.” He’s being too loud, but he doesn’t care. He can hear Chu Wanning moving around in there and he won’t leave until he gets to talk to him. 

When Chu Wanning does eventually open the door, Mo Ran doesn’t give him the chance to speak. He gets a foot into the gap and forces it open, gets inside and slams it behind him, pushing Chu Wanning into the room in front of him. Chu Wanning has been packing hurriedly, his suitcase is open and a mess of clothes shoved inside it. 

“Is it true?” Mo Ran says, though he knows the answer already, he can see it in the slope of Chu Wanning’s shoulders, the way he stares at the floor and won’t meet Mo Ran’s eyes.

“Why do you care, Mo Ran? I thought you’d be happy.” It's the most words Chu Wanning has said to him in a long time. 

 “Happy?” The idea is so foreign that Mo Ran struggles to comprehend it. “Why do I care? Good question! I don’t know, I’m just your teammate, right? There’s nothing else going on between us? Nothing that means anything anyway, right?” Chu Wanning flinches. Mo Ran realises he’s shouting, but he’s so angry, it’s filling every inch of his body, there’s nowhere else to put it. “I don’t get it. I know you’re not a coward. Why are you doing this?”

Chu Wanning gives him a sad look. “I’m giving you what you want. ‘Who let him back this season? Why is he driving again?’ I heard you say it earlier this year. You were right.”

Shit. “No! I wasn’t, fuck— that was months ago! I didn’t know. For years you acted like you could barely stand to be in the same room as me, all the while secretly making my career, the junior driver program, telling Xue Zhengyong I deserved a spot last year… All the bullshit with Shi Mei… I didn’t know! What was I supposed to think?”

Chu Wanning’s eyes snap up, flashing. “Who told you about that?”

“Does it matter? It’s true isn’t it? You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met, do you know that? When I was a kid you called me hopeless and ever since then I’ve worked so hard to measure up to your standards, and I know I’ll never be good enough, but you can’t just leave!” It’s not fair! Mo Ran wants to scream, like a toddler in a tantrum. He collapses to sit on the side of the bed, head in his hands. “Ye Wangxi was fucking right, oh my god.”

Chu Wanning is silent. When Mo Ran looks up, he’s staring at Mo Ran, frozen. Mo Ran waits for him to say something. The moment stretches on until finally, he says in a quiet voice, “Is that what you really think?”

Mo Ran barks out a hollow laugh. “Which part? Yes.”

“Mo Ran…” Chu Wanning starts. Then he takes a deep breath and starts again, “Mo Ran, you’re one of the best drivers I’ve ever seen. You deserve everything that’s coming your way. You deserve more. It’s me who’s… hopeless. I never thought that about you. That’s why I said what I said about our… physical relationship not meaning anything. I never dreamed you’d want me in that way. I’m willing to take what I can get. ”

“You don’t get to decide what I deserve. Or what I want.” Mo Ran says, slowly, staring into the middle distance. What does this mean? He shakes his head. “You know what Ye Wangxi said to me at the wedding this summer? She told me I was in love with you. I told her she was crazy.”

Chu Wanning looks away, like he can’t bear to hear it. “I understand.” There’s a defeated note in his voice.   

“You’re not listening to me.” Mo Ran stands up from the bed and moves over to him. Chu Wanning backs away from him until he hits the wall and there’s nowhere else to go. Mo Ran pins him there with a hand on the wall next to his head and bends to put their faces close together. They’re not actually touching, but Chu Wanning’s eyes flutter closed, his mouth is slightly open, Mo Ran can feel the tickle of his breath on his own skin. He brings a hand to Chu Wanning’s chin and fits their mouths together, kissing him, warm and firm. 

---

MANILA GRAND PRIX: RACE DAY

It’s the last race of the season.

Mo Ran is doing it, he’s winning. Okay, he’s not winning  yet, exactly, but he knows he can win. He knows he can keep up his pace, he knows he can find a way to get around those last few cars in front of him. They’re in the last third of the race now. He gains ground, watching the driver in front carefully for any momentary lapse.

“Chu Wanning behind,” Xue Meng pipes up. Mo Ran doesn’t pause or hold his breath, pausing is impossible and he’s too focused to be aware of his breath, but he waits for the next thing Xue Meng is going to say. It doesn’t come. 

“Confirm—” Mo Ran says, “move aside?”

“No. You’ve got the pace, Mo Ran. Go for it.”

Mo Ran does. 

First place feels… It feels good, of course. It’s the goal Mo Ran has been working towards since he was a literal child. But it feels natural as well. Mo Ran can believe he’s here, he believes he earned it.  

Ye Wangxi is at one side, she came in third. And there on his right, in second place is Chu Wanning. It’s Shisheng’s first double podium in years, the mood in the garage when they climbed out of their cars was electric. Xue Zhengyong was actively crying, pulling both of them into a chaotic embrace. Mo Ran’s pretty sure Xue Meng had shed a few tears as well, his usually pristine face was blotchy and his eyes red.  

On the podium, Mo Ran slings his arm around Chu Wanning, pulling him in close in front of the cameras, looking for all the world like two teammates flushed with their own success. “I am going to fuck you so well tonight,” Mo Ran says in an undertone into Chu Wanning’s ear, and watches him fight to control his expression.

Mo Ran catches Ye Wangxi’s eye when he straightens back up. She’s looks at them both and shakes her head slowly. Mo Ran winks.

Mo Ran catches up with her later, as they’re on the way to the media area. “Wait, Ye Wangxi. So it turns out you were right.”

She snorts. “Yeah, no shit.”

“But… What about your thing?” Mo Ran has been thinking a lot about this. I’m not the only driver in love with my teammate. “Can I help?”

She turns round and gives him a look that is extremely unimpressed. “Hm. Yeah, no. I’ve got it under control, Mo Ran. Thanks, though.” They enter the media pen, and Mo Ran watches her make significant eye contact with Song Qitong, who returns a knowing smirk that Mo Ran… recognises. 

He narrows his eyes. “Oh — you? Really? All three of you?”

Ye Wangxi claps him on the back and walks away. “Don’t worry about it, Mo Ran.”

Out of habit, Mo Ran drifts over to Song Qitong, Chu Wanning coming over close behind. Song Qitong shoves the microphone in her hand between them both. “Unprecedented performance on track for the Shisheng team today. Chu Wanning, any comment on the rumours that this will be your last season as a Formula 1 driver?”

Chu Wanning clears his throat and gives her the specific ‘why are you talking to me’ look that he saves for journalists. “Ridiculous. Those rumours are completely unfounded.”

---

Back at the hotel, Mo Ran gets out of the shower and tousles his hair dry. His phone dings with an incoming message. It's from Rong Jiu, simply a still of Mo Ran and Chu Wanning on the podium, standing close together, Mo Ran's hand on the back of Chu Wanning's neck, and his mouth next to Chu Wanning's ear. Chu Wanning is turned towards him, it looks like he's tucked his face into Mo Ran's neck. The accompanying message below is a pair of eye emojis and — Maybe the big dick competition gives out prizes after all…

Mo Ran shakes his head and sends back a middle finger emoji.

He notices an older notification that must have come through while he was in the shower, a message from an unknown sender.

>Well done A-Ran

Mo Ran's stomach turns. Only two people in his life have ever called him that, and one of them is dead. Mo Ran stands there, staring at the screen for a long time, before taking a breath and blocking the sender. He leaves the phone face down on the side as he goes into the other room, where Chu Wanning is waiting naked in his bed. 

It takes a second for Mo Ran to come to terms with reality. Not that he had expected Chu Wanning to leave — Mo Ran got him worked up enough before he went to shower that Chu Wanning wouldn’t be going anywhere — but he has to remind himself that this is his. He gets to have this. 

Mo Ran yanks the sheets off, exposing Chu Wanning, bare and grinding his cock into the palm of his hand. He squawks and moves his hands to cover himself, as if Mo Ran hasn’t seen every delicious inch of his body before. Mo Ran crawls up the bed to him and pins his wrists by his head, kissing his lips, his jaw, his neck, using his teeth until Chu Wanning gets so worked up that, with a noise of horny frustration, he pushes Mo Ran onto his back and straddles Mo Ran’s hips of his own accord. Mo Ran lets himself be manhandled a little, settling back against the pillows and watching him work to sink down on Mo Ran’s cock, a focussed expression on his face, a little crease of concentration between his eyebrows. 

“Fuck, fucking look at you,” Mo Ran moans as Chu Wanning rocks himself back on his heals and Mo Ran slips in a little more. Mo Ran moves a hand to stroke his thumb up and down Chu Wanning’s cock, feeling him twitch with the extra stimulation. “Can’t believe I’m the only person who knows how much of a slut you are. You would have climbed on my cock like this right there on the podium today, wouldn’t you? Maybe I should have bent you over the car and let everyone know who you belong to.”

Chu Wanning makes a desperate noise as he sinks down the rest of the way and grabs at Mo Ran, pulling him close, hips raising up and down in jerky, needy motions that he seems unable to control. Mo Ran sits forward and crowds him close to his chest, hands going to the meat of Chu Wanning’s ass and squeezing, letting Chu Wanning rock himself on his cock. He worries a hickey into the skin where Chu Wanning’s neck meets his shoulder. 

“No,” Mo Ran says, revisiting his previous thought, voice shot. “No, just me, only me.” 

Chu Wanning clings to Mo Ran, moving with more and more desperation, letting filthy noises spill from his mouth. Mo Ran fucks his hips up too, making Chu Wanning feel all of him, bouncing him in his lap until Chu Wanning comes, clutching at the back of Mo Ran’s head, holding him so close to his chest that Mo Ran is sure he can feel his heart beating. 

“I love you,” Chu Wanning says, quick, almost involuntarily, all in one breath, and Mo Ran fucks up into him once, twice and he’s spilling over, white-hot pleasure turning him inside out and leaving him floaty.

Mo Ran is almost scared of how good it feels. He stays inside Chu Wanning as long as he can, pressing their foreheads together, catching their breath. It's unreal — Chu Wanning, his F1 career — he gets to have these things and he's never going to let them go. The absurdity of the situation makes him laugh. 

"What?" Chu Wanning asks softly. 

Mo Ran shakes his head. "I can't believe you were really going to retire because you thought I didn't like you back? So dramatic..."

Chu Wanning swats at the side of his head, but there's no strength in it. "It's Xue Zhengyong who's the dramatic one. He overreacted."

"I don't care." Mo Ran hums and presses a kiss to the bruise he left on Chu Wanning's neck, just far enough up to peak out from the collar of a dress shirt. "You're not allowed to leave until you get another World Championship."

"Oh? I thought you were getting the next one?" Chu Wanning sounds breathless. 

"That's right. I'm getting next year's. You can have the one after." Mo Ran pulls him down and over so they're lying on the bed facing each other. 

"And then you'll let me retire?" He says it with a smile on his face, indulging in Mo Ran's fantasy. 

Mo Ran grabs his ass and hauls him closer, fingers skirting the sensitive skin of his hole. He pretends to consider it. "Hm, maybe. Maybe by then I'll have got you pregnant. When you start showing you'll have to take a break—"

He's cut off by the look on Chu Wanning's face, somewhere between outraged, confused and extremely turned on. They don't say much for a long while after that.