
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/466748.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Speed_Racer_(2008)
  Relationship:
      Mifune_Gou/"Fukumen_Racer"_Mifune_Kenichi_|_Rex_"Racer_X"_Racer/Speed
      Racer
  Character:
      Mifune_Gou_|_Speed_Racer, "Fukumen_Racer"_Mifune_Kenichi_|_Rex_"Racer_X"
      Racer, Rokugou_Keibu_|_Inspector_Detector, Minx_(Speed_Racer), Shimura
      Michi_|_Trixie
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Sexual_Fantasy, Pining, Guilt, Running_away_from_your_problems
      does_not_magically_solve_them, Matchmaking
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-23 Words: 1658
****** Ignition ******
by Sheepnamedpig
Summary
     Rex Racer is burning.
Notes
     Unbeta'd
See the end of the work for more notes
When Rex Racer first learns that he’s going to be getting a baby brother, he’s
not overly impressed with the idea.

The first time Rex Racer holds his pink and squirmy baby brother in his arms,
he gets a premonition. He won’t see it for what it is for another decade or so,
but he knows, somehow, that this tiny wrinkly thing that can fit neatly in his
Dad’s giant one-handed grasp will someday be the biggest and most important
thing in the world.

Speed becomes the biggest and most important thing in Rex’s world sooner rather
than later. His baby brother is still just that when he gets a sickness that
keeps him up half the night wailing and screaming. When the family discovers
that only Rex’s arms can calm the squalling bundle enough to fall into restless
sleep, Rex feels his young heart and soul being inexorably chained to the life
and future of this precious existence.

Rex loves Speed. Wholly and unrepentantly. Speed loves Rex. Completely and
unwaveringly.

It becomes a problem, later on, for Rex. He delights in all aspects of his
little brother: his hair, his cheery giggles, the way he snuffles in his sleep,
his tweakable ears and toes, his unfailing devotion to his big brother, his
high little sighs, his long, despondent face when Rex goes to racing camp, his
daily phone calls while Rex is away, his determined clinging when Rex returns,
his soft, slightly chubby skin, the tantrums he throws when he gets upset over
some small useless thing—all these things are irresistible to Rex and he bends
like a blade of grass under the pressure of his baby brother’s will.

When Rex starts falling into the swing of puberty he starts having dreams.
Dreams of the usual kind expected of a boy his age, but featuring a rather
unusual partner. Under the heel of his palm, there is not the flare of a hip
and bone, but baby-smooth skin and stubborn baby fat. Tangled in his fingers,
not long threads of curling silk, but short brown scruff. In his ear, not
breathy moans, but high little sighs.

The problems don’t stop there. As Rex matures, so do his nocturnal
expectations. The sleeping lover in his arms snuffles in his sleep. When they
are (extremely) reluctantly parted, there are calls every day, occasionally X-
rated, and when he gets back, a whole day spent in bed with an enthusiastic
lover who refuses to let him go except to use the toilet and scrounge for
sustenance. When his lover gets upset over something stupid again, they have it
out, then laugh later over how stupid it was.

They are always happy in Rex’s dreams.

It’s wrong, which Rex full well knows. So he suffers in this delightful hell
and takes his frustrations out the only way he can: on the race track.

He drives countless thousands of miles, all the while going nowhere. He uses
the track to punish himself for his transgressions: ten extra laps for a too-
loving kiss on the forehead, fifteen for a hug three seconds too long, forty
for an explicit dream with his beautiful, childish brother.

Soon, Rex and Speed aren’t spending very much time together at all. Rex’s body
burns in a swampy mixture of hormones and love, but only for the one thing it
can never receive.

All this time on the track is making Rex one of the best drivers out there. He
begins to receive invitations to the best and most exciting races. He burns. He
begins to accept these invitations.

Speed’s face is still long and despondent, but his phone calls are hero-worship
up, down, and all over. He still clings when Rex returns, and the older brother
uses it as an excuse to get away with an extra-long hug.

He takes Speed out driving a few times. It’s dangerous for his composure, and
he forces himself to spend an entire day at the track each time it happens, but
it’s worth it.

When Rex tells Speed to listen, to hear what the car is telling him, he means
for the boy to listen to the sounds of the engine rumbling, the wind roaring,
the rubber flying over the track’s surface.

Instead, Speed listens to her soul. Rex has never before heard it, but he hears
it now and remembers the distant premonition that he once had. Speed’s destiny
is starting to take off, and Rex is being dragged along for the ride, pulled by
the chains attaching his heart and soul to the boy in his arms.

Rex doesn’t know what to do anymore. That night, he dreams of the two of them
driving, Speed squirming in his lap, hands clenched tight to the wheel, Rex
tirelessly thrusting up into his brother’s soft and immature body. He dreams of
being dragged along the ground, chained to Speed as his baby brother tries
fruitlessly to sprint after something retreating into the distance.

He dreams a premonition of ice and fire and death. He will remember it later
when he needs it.

He doesn’t know what to do, but the choice is taken out of his hands.

Speed—innocent, loving, naïve Speed—almost dies, is almost killed by an
innocuous-looking package.

Rex leaves.

He doesn’t come back.

&&&

The decision to die is surprisingly easy. After so long away from Speed and
countless, countless nights of burning agony with no hope for even the
slightest relief, Rex feels as though the separation has been driving him
towards his infernal grave all along.

So, disowned and defamed, Rex Racer waits to die.

Inspector Detector gets to him first. Clever bastard that he is, he turns
Speed’s love of racing against Rex and convinces him to live for the sake of
making the world of racing safe for the one thing on earth that matters most to
Rex Racer.

The decision to kill Rex Racer in ice and fire has nothing to do with Speed,
but the decision to wear a new face has everything to do with Speed.

(Rex Racer’s ultimate weakness was his baby brother Speed. This man’s face may
no longer be that of Rex Racer, but some things are truly indelible.)

Racer X’s new skin does not burn, and for a time, there is relief.

&&&

Predictably, it doesn’t last.

Speed grows and flourishes, his round chin and limbs lengthening, innocent gaze
sharpening. His innate talent, that instinctive communion between him and his
car, propels him skyward into the limitless blue expanse, then lays him low
just as readily.

He is kindling caught on fire, and Racer X is quick to snatch him up and
deliver that precious flame into the pyre he and Detector have built under
Royalton and his pet drivers. It catches quickly, burning fiercely and
devouring Speed’s enemies until there is nothing left but disgraced ashes.

Racer X’s hands are burned for his trouble. The sensation sparks a chain
reaction that sets his body ablaze once more.

The dreams return in full force, but where there was once a soft, pliant body
tucked into his embrace, there is now a long, toned, energetic young man
meeting him caress for caress, thrust for thrust. Racer X does not merely
burn—he is razed to ashes.

Speed and Trixie kiss—he is immolated.

Minx makes sly and vaguely pitying remarks. His arms no longer open to her, but
they remain friends.

&&&

Racer X burns. Speed thrives. Trixie watches.

These days, Racer X spends most of his time trying to get  away  from the
track. Speed is always there, always beautiful, and always tempting. And
because the pastime he used to rely on to punish himself for indulgence is
suddenly infested with the very thing that’s causing those same indulgences,
he’s suddenly trapped between a rock and his own mounting frustration.

It gets worse. Speed touches him. Speed touches everyone, but the casual
touches to shoulder and arm evolve into grasps of elbow and wrist and then 
more  and Racer X is finding that the rock behind him is suddenly an amorous
and determined Speed Racer.

Racer X is caught between his love and lust for Speed Racer and the young man
himself. It’s a special sort of hell.

Minx and Inspector Detector watch the conflagration from the sidelines. Racer X
can’t tell if they’re standing by because they don’t know how to help or they
just want Speed to hurry up and have his filthy way with his disguised older
brother.

Racer X tries to confront Speed about the relationship the younger man is
attempting to pursue with him and fails spectacularly. He is still the blade of
grass beneath his baby brother’s heel, and all it takes to cut him off on the
subject is a hand splayed firmly over Racer X’s leather-clad chest. Racer X
looks at that hand, at its fine, strong tendons, then at the beautiful boy
throwing himself at the older man, and runs away.

Racer X has never before regretted claiming a new face, but ironically, the
only thing keeping him from changing it back is the thought of hurting Speed.

(Interestingly enough, it never actually occurs to him to just pack up and
leave.)

Trixie finally puts him out of his misery. She sees in his body language what
she can’t see in his eyes, and sees in Speed’s eyes what Racer X refuses to see
with his. Her tactic, tried and supposedly true, is to lock them in a closet.

Racer X can’t speak for precedent, but he barely gets out a startled question
before Speed’s eager and panting mouth is on his and his fine, strong hands are
slipping into the chinks of Racer X’s leather armor to find burning skin
beneath.

That night, Racer X is too busy being kept awake by reality to dream.

&&&

The next night, Racer X finds out that Speed still snuffles in his sleep.
End Notes
     Incest isn't usually my thing. Except when it is, apparently.
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