Have you watched (and rewatched) Heated Rivalry yet? Or has your social feed been taken over by hot ice hockey players and wink-wink-nudge-nudge phrases like “I’m coming to the cottage”?
Heated Rivalry has become a cultural fixation, not just because it’s sexy and emotionally charged, but because it feels… Different, somehow. Viewers keep circling back to the same thing: The intimacy feels real, not forced (and no, they’re definitely not *actually* doing it onscreen, they just have really good chemistry and a kick-ass intimacy coordinator).
A big part of that realism comes down to how consent is communicated, especially between the main characters, Shane and Ilya. Ice hockey players on rival teams, their relationship starts off as casual hookups and then deepens over the years – and throughout its evolution, there’s a series of ordinary human moments and connections that show consent as an ongoing, responsive process.
And whew, is that different from how TV (and movies) used to be.
For a long time, TV and film treated consent as something implied – or something not important/nonexistent. If two characters were attracted to each other, everything else was assumed – silence read as agreement, persistence was framed as romance, and power imbalances were glossed over or, worse, eroticised. The message was subtle, but it was consistent: If it’s passionate enough, the details of consent don’t matter. Think of the number of times you’ve seen an onscreen character back someone up against a wall for a kiss, or throw them down on a bed and go for it. That happens in Heated Rivalry, too – but the context is very, very different.
There’s been a lot of talk about consent since #metoo, and so much is misunderstood. People might think of “giving consent” as a formal, sit-down conversation, where the interested parties woodenly discuss what is and is not acceptable to them during an intimate encounter like there are lawyers present. Or the need to ask permission every single moment of every makeout session: “Can I kiss you again? Can I kiss you again? Are you okay if I kiss you again?” And while sometimes consent is that explicit and detail-oriented – because each person’s comfort level matters, and some people might find that level of clarity reassuring – more often it’s a fluidly moving conversation that involves not just verbal discussion, but paying attention to body language, nonverbal cues, and what’s not being said.
Consent requires observation of your partner. Note the way they’re breathing and whether they’re able to look you in the eyes, if they’re relaxed or stiff, if they flinch or seem unenthusiastic. Consent can be a nod, a smile, a pointed gaze – but what it does need to be is understood between partners. Consent is not something you assume.
And this is what Heated Rivalry does so well. It brings the nuance – how the characters look at each other, the way they react to touch, the shift in pace that’s noticed. Neither character is solely in it for their own pleasure and gratification. They ask instead of take, and they respond to each other’s comfort in real time.
We’ve got to hand it to the writers, director, and actors – the verbal check-ins between Ilya and Shane actually sound real, not scripted. “Is this okay?” accompanied by a meaningful look. “You still want?” before going ahead with something previously talked about.
And crucially, none of this is presented as awkward or unsexy. If anything, it heightens the tension. Desire builds because both people are actively choosing what’s happening, and they’re speaking up, saying what they want and don’t want, asking each other what they’re into and whether they need breaks.
That matters so much, because when you’re in the moment, it can be challenging to think of what you need to do or say – you might worry you’re spoiling the mood if you pause to ask your partner if they’re still feeling good about what’s going on or if they want anything to change. But these conversations have to happen, especially in the emotionally charged moments. Real-life intimacy doesn’t come with a script – it’s messy and layered and full of micro-moments where communication happens through not just words, but also tone, timing, body language. Heated Rivalry demonstrates this so well.
Ilya’s care for Shane, especially, comes across in what he says when they’re together – he knows that Shane is the less experienced of the pair, and he doesn’t take advantage. Instead, he asks the right questions at the right moments, not centering himself, but making sure that what’s going on is mutually desired and mutually pleasurable. At one point, he reassures Shane that he would never “leave you like this” – walk away having enjoyed himself without a care for Shane’s enjoyment. All along, his words align with his actions, and that speaks volumes.
While media often reminds us that consent is important, we’re still not seeing it played out in many shows we watch – and that leaves a gap in our understanding, and in the “Do as I say, not as I do” nature of intimacy onscreen. Shows like Heated Rivalry help fill that gap by modelling behavior. Viewers see that consenti sn’t a one-time question or a legalistic hurdle to be overcome. It’s shared awareness and mutual responsiveness, a way of staying connected to another person rather than barreling past them on the way to an orgasm.
This shift in how intimacy is portrayed didn’t happen by accident. The rise of intimacy coordinators has changed the landscape of onscreen portrayals of sex. These professionals work with actors and directors to choreograph intimate scenes with care, clarity, and mutual agreement. Boundaries are discussed ahead of time, and actions are planned out so everyone knows what’s happening and what they’ve agreed to. Consent exists not just within the story, but behind the scenes too – and that’s making a difference to how actors perform, as their bodily autonomy is as important in real-life as it is onscreen.
That intentionality shows up in what we watch. When a scene has been thoughtfully designed, the audience feels it. Touch looks deliberate and enthusiasm is clear. The result is intimacy that feels grounded rather than performative. For Heated Rivalry, which tends to show sexual encounters as fully realized, start-to-finish scenes (with realistic pacing and showing what happens before/during/after), this gives the viewer a tender glimpse into what it could be like between two people who are in lust/love.
And in the moments when things aren’t going quite right? The show calls it out. Characters say when they’re feeling neglected or when they expected something more/different. Their communication evolves over time, as they mature and their relationship grows, and the “things unsaid” do get discussed. The characters aren’t perfect and they don’t behave perfectly, but they are making an effort.
Consent allows passion to exist without fear – it prioritizes connection that’s built on honesty and choice. Right now, that feels especially resonant. Conversations about bodily autonomy, boundaries, and agency are everywhere. People are more aware than ever of how often their comfort has been overlooked or dismissed. Seeing consent depicted clearly and respectfully can feel affirming.
Watching characters communicate desire, boundaries, and comfort in real time gives people language they may not have had before. Maybe that’s why we’ve got Heated Rivalry on rewatch – because it’s such a novelty to see this done so well, and we want (and deserve) that to translate into real life.
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