RIVALS | MxM MPreg

Chapter 1

Present Day:

Landon stared at himself in front of the bathroom mirror, the reflection staring back at him seemed foreign as if he was a stranger to himself. Grey hairs had begun peeking from his head and he had started to get more wrinkles on his face despite all the goddamn anti-aging creams and serums he'd been using. Hell, even his memory was failing. He realized this some time ago when he started miscalculating his move on the racetracks. He wasn't that old though, was he? Na, thirty-five wasn't old. He was still Landon McCoy, the greatest racecar driver in North America—possibly the world. Everyone still loved him, his fans, his sponsors, his racing buddies, and more importantly, his newfound family.

Landon took one last look at himself in the mirror before straightening his shoulders and zipping up his red racing suit—littered with logos from his years of racing—up to his neck. Although his age might get to him once in a while, like every other time, he didn't have any doubtful thoughts about today's race; he would go on that track, dominate it, and win this year's EchoPark Automotive Grand Prix at the Circuit of the Americas in Austin, Texas.

A knock on the restroom door startled Landon; however, before he could respond, Wade's panicked voice thundered through the door, "Hey, Lan! You might wanna hurry up in there buddy—the race is about to start."

A smile broke loose from Landon's face. "I'm coming—I'm coming," he answered as he hurried out the door. As expected, Wade Cooper, Landon's best friend in the whole wide world, was there with wide eyes trained on the paparazzi; Wade never liked them.

"You okay?"

Wade snapped at Landon's attention, and he smiled. "Well, look at you—our star racer," he said, eyeing the veteran racer from head to toe, seemingly piecing together Landon's confident stance with a deep sense of admiration. "Ready to win another one?"

Landon rolled his eyes and huffed a burst of playful laughter, mimicking that of a young pompous racer as he threaded his fingers through his hair. "You know I am," he said, and then they both broke into a fit of bubbling laughter.

"Don't do that again, I'm starting to get flashbacks," Wade joked.

Ah, flashbacks; Landon remembered Wade's flashbacks like it was yesterday, though it was ten years ago. Wade was a Beta, and only three years Landon's senior, though the man had always seemed older to Landon. They first stumbled upon each other in Fredericksburg, Texas, when Landon was in the prime of his racing career, and an arrogant, entitled pile of shit—a typical Alpha, but much worse. It happened when a young Landon left Cali for a drive, he didn't tell anyone where he was going—he was angry at his then, three-year long-term girlfriend, so he hit the road in a rage. He had struck a dead end when his car broke down in Fredericksburg, a little town in the South. No one seemed to know him there—hell, they didn't even care when he told them that he was the Landon McCoy. Wade, the town's local mechanic, had helped him fix it up. The man had been a great sport—he took Landon out to dinner, showed him around town, and made him realize that life outside of Cali wasn't too bad, and he ended up staying longer than the three days Wade promised his car would take to get fixed. Fifteen years later, he was still there.

A noise from the opposite end caught their attention; ear-shattering screaming and shouting. Landon arched an eyebrow before looking over Wade's shoulder to the sea of paparazzi and sports reporters who flocked by the entrance of the corridor—blocked by five security guards—trying to get pictures and interviews with him. The flashing lights from the camera lens were plenty, they were somewhat blinding; Landon had to look away because his eyes weren't as strong as before.

"McCoy—Mr. McCoy!"

"Landon McCoy!!"

"Over here, Landon!!!"