The Number of Vices, chapter 2
Apr. 12th, 2021 01:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scripsiTitle: The Number of Vices
Fandom: The Queen’s Gambit
Rating: Explicit
Chapters: 2/?
Word Count: 1252
Characters: Beth Harmon, Vasily Borgov
Pairings Beth Harmon/Vasily Borgov
Warnings: Angst, Rough sex, Uneven power dynamics, M/f, BDSM, Choking, Oral sex, Older man/Younger woman
Summary: Staying in Moscow after the Invitational, Beth is delighted to find Vasily Borgov is to show her the city. She has plans. So have Borgov.
The fic on AO3
They filled the next day with sightseeing. A car took them Krasnaya ploshchaď, the Red Square, which, Beth learned, had been called red long before the Soviet Union had been created. She didn’t get the why of the name, though. Even if some buildings surrounding the square were red, it wasn’t that dominating a color.
“It’s because of the ever-changing nature of language,” Borgov explained. “Once Krasnaya meant beautiful, but now the word means red.”
He was looking at her hair as he said it, and Beth turned away so he wouldn’t see her delighted smile.
The State Historical Museum bored her, and she begged off from looking at Lenin’s embalmed corpse, even if Borgov assured her she wouldn’t have to join the long queue of people patiently waiting for their turn.
“I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I don’t really enjoy looking at dead people.”
And Borgov smiled and said he understood quite well.
On the other hand, she enjoyed the architecture of the various historical buildings around the square, especially the Saint Basil’s Cathedral., It didn’t look quite real to her, with its many towers and spires, all different, and in a riot of colors and patterns. At a distance, it even looked edible, like a giant cake meant to lure in the unsuspecting. Beth enjoyed her day, and her company as well. Borgov was an amiable guide; if not overly talkative, still always ready to answer her questions.
After dinner, Borgov repeated his suggestion of chess in his suit, and Beth once again agreed, and just like the night before they left the door open. For a few hours, she forgot anything else but chess. She had spent years analyzing Borgov’s games, but it was another thing to discuss them with him.
“Aren’t you afraid I will use all I learn about you the next time we play against each other?”
“Not at all. I am learning as much about you, after all. Our next match is bound to be very interesting.”
“You know I’m fully determined to become World Champion and de-throne you.”
“Perhaps. I’m sure it will be you or possibly Girov, who will do it one day.”
“And it doesn’t upset you?”
He thought it over. “It doesn’t upset me, no. I’m fully aware I’m at the zenith of my career, and that you two are on the rise. It’s the nature of things that I will one day lose my title. But I’m not going to just let it happen; I’ll never give up my title without a fight.”
She nodded in approval. “As it should be.”
They played for another hour, then Borgov stood up with an air of dismissal. “It’s late, you should go to bed.”
Beth swallowed her disappointment. She had not thought about the previous day all evening, but now she was reminded they had never returned to their last conversation. He followed her to the door again, but instead of leaving, Beth closed it, turned around, and leaned against it.
“You promised to tell me about your vices.”
“I promised nothing of the sort. Am I supposed to tell you just to sate your curiosity?”
He stepped closer, placing his hands on her hips. They felt warm through the fabric of her dress, spreading heat through her body. He smelled nice, Beth had noticed that before when he embraced her after the game. Clean skin, and a hint of cologne, something both lemony and woody, which made her want to lean in close to him and take a deep breath.
“You wriggle your very shapely hips and no doubt all the young men come running. Now you’re wriggling them in my direction, and because I’m middle age and boring you think i will run even faster, yes? Because you are young and beautiful, and I should be flattered and grateful.”
Beth blushed. “I never thought that!”
He frowned, and the grip on her hips grew a little tighter. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Well, perhaps I did, a little, but I don’t anymore. And you are far from boring.”
He smiled a little at that. “Nevertheless, you should go now. You do not know what I like and what I want.””
“I’m not so innocent.”
“And those words prove you are. I know of your conquests and I’m sure they are all very nice boys. But I’m not like them.”
Beth raised her chin. “I don’t want to go.”
“Very well. Let’s see if this won’t persuade you.”
His left hand left her hip and came to rest at her throat instead, his index finger and thumb pressing into the soft flesh under her jaw. Lightly at first, but then he pressed harder, his fingers digging into her flesh, and the grip became painful. Involuntarily Beth’s hands flew up to his wrist, tugging at it to no avail.
“You’re hurting me.”
“I know.”
His answer threw her. She expected him to apologize and remove his hands; with Harry and Benny she had only needed to hint at being uncomfortable, and they would apologize and stop. Borgov merely stopped applying more pressure, but he didn’t ease his hold either. His face was impassive, the same expressionless masque as when he regarded her over the chessboard, waiting for her next move. And that was what he was doing, Beth realized. It was her move now, only they weren’t playing chess anymore.
So what option did she have? Cry for help? Beth was almost certain Borgov’s room was bugged. But in that case, he knew it too, and he was clearly not concerned they would be interrupted, so presumably, no one would come. And why would she cry, anyway? She was not the least bit afraid. As scared as she had once been of Borgov, it now seemed impossible to fear him again. What she felt was a thrill of excitement and a sweet ache between her legs.
Then, there was always the possibility to just ask him to stop. The problem with that was that Beth was certain he would do so at once, and then she would have no choice but to go back to her room, go to bed, and take care of her growing arousal on her own. It was a scenario that felt distinctly lacking.
She was acutely aware of Borgov’s body so close to hers. Beth had never consciously considered any man’s physical strength before, but now she felt Borgov’s in the ease with which he constrained her. He only needed to tighten the hand around her throat, press harder, and he would really hurt her, and she wouldn’t be able to fight him off.
It was a curiously elating feeling; to know that as long as she didn’t tell him to stop, she was helpless. It felt like when she was drunk. Drink enough, and alcohol took away all musts and responsibilities, enabling her to relax. Only now her mind didn’t feel clouded, and her senses dull, and she still could just let everything go. Here in this room with Vasily Borgov, she could let him take it all away from her. For as long as she stayed here with him, she could relish in being powerless and still feel free.
Beth let go of Borgov’s wrist, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other hand on his neck, tugging him closer.
“So, are you going to kiss me, or not?”
Fandom: The Queen’s Gambit
Rating: Explicit
Chapters: 2/?
Word Count: 1252
Characters: Beth Harmon, Vasily Borgov
Pairings Beth Harmon/Vasily Borgov
Warnings: Angst, Rough sex, Uneven power dynamics, M/f, BDSM, Choking, Oral sex, Older man/Younger woman
Summary: Staying in Moscow after the Invitational, Beth is delighted to find Vasily Borgov is to show her the city. She has plans. So have Borgov.
The fic on AO3
They filled the next day with sightseeing. A car took them Krasnaya ploshchaď, the Red Square, which, Beth learned, had been called red long before the Soviet Union had been created. She didn’t get the why of the name, though. Even if some buildings surrounding the square were red, it wasn’t that dominating a color.
“It’s because of the ever-changing nature of language,” Borgov explained. “Once Krasnaya meant beautiful, but now the word means red.”
He was looking at her hair as he said it, and Beth turned away so he wouldn’t see her delighted smile.
The State Historical Museum bored her, and she begged off from looking at Lenin’s embalmed corpse, even if Borgov assured her she wouldn’t have to join the long queue of people patiently waiting for their turn.
“I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I don’t really enjoy looking at dead people.”
And Borgov smiled and said he understood quite well.
On the other hand, she enjoyed the architecture of the various historical buildings around the square, especially the Saint Basil’s Cathedral., It didn’t look quite real to her, with its many towers and spires, all different, and in a riot of colors and patterns. At a distance, it even looked edible, like a giant cake meant to lure in the unsuspecting. Beth enjoyed her day, and her company as well. Borgov was an amiable guide; if not overly talkative, still always ready to answer her questions.
After dinner, Borgov repeated his suggestion of chess in his suit, and Beth once again agreed, and just like the night before they left the door open. For a few hours, she forgot anything else but chess. She had spent years analyzing Borgov’s games, but it was another thing to discuss them with him.
“Aren’t you afraid I will use all I learn about you the next time we play against each other?”
“Not at all. I am learning as much about you, after all. Our next match is bound to be very interesting.”
“You know I’m fully determined to become World Champion and de-throne you.”
“Perhaps. I’m sure it will be you or possibly Girov, who will do it one day.”
“And it doesn’t upset you?”
He thought it over. “It doesn’t upset me, no. I’m fully aware I’m at the zenith of my career, and that you two are on the rise. It’s the nature of things that I will one day lose my title. But I’m not going to just let it happen; I’ll never give up my title without a fight.”
She nodded in approval. “As it should be.”
They played for another hour, then Borgov stood up with an air of dismissal. “It’s late, you should go to bed.”
Beth swallowed her disappointment. She had not thought about the previous day all evening, but now she was reminded they had never returned to their last conversation. He followed her to the door again, but instead of leaving, Beth closed it, turned around, and leaned against it.
“You promised to tell me about your vices.”
“I promised nothing of the sort. Am I supposed to tell you just to sate your curiosity?”
He stepped closer, placing his hands on her hips. They felt warm through the fabric of her dress, spreading heat through her body. He smelled nice, Beth had noticed that before when he embraced her after the game. Clean skin, and a hint of cologne, something both lemony and woody, which made her want to lean in close to him and take a deep breath.
“You wriggle your very shapely hips and no doubt all the young men come running. Now you’re wriggling them in my direction, and because I’m middle age and boring you think i will run even faster, yes? Because you are young and beautiful, and I should be flattered and grateful.”
Beth blushed. “I never thought that!”
He frowned, and the grip on her hips grew a little tighter. “Don’t lie to me.”
“Well, perhaps I did, a little, but I don’t anymore. And you are far from boring.”
He smiled a little at that. “Nevertheless, you should go now. You do not know what I like and what I want.””
“I’m not so innocent.”
“And those words prove you are. I know of your conquests and I’m sure they are all very nice boys. But I’m not like them.”
Beth raised her chin. “I don’t want to go.”
“Very well. Let’s see if this won’t persuade you.”
His left hand left her hip and came to rest at her throat instead, his index finger and thumb pressing into the soft flesh under her jaw. Lightly at first, but then he pressed harder, his fingers digging into her flesh, and the grip became painful. Involuntarily Beth’s hands flew up to his wrist, tugging at it to no avail.
“You’re hurting me.”
“I know.”
His answer threw her. She expected him to apologize and remove his hands; with Harry and Benny she had only needed to hint at being uncomfortable, and they would apologize and stop. Borgov merely stopped applying more pressure, but he didn’t ease his hold either. His face was impassive, the same expressionless masque as when he regarded her over the chessboard, waiting for her next move. And that was what he was doing, Beth realized. It was her move now, only they weren’t playing chess anymore.
So what option did she have? Cry for help? Beth was almost certain Borgov’s room was bugged. But in that case, he knew it too, and he was clearly not concerned they would be interrupted, so presumably, no one would come. And why would she cry, anyway? She was not the least bit afraid. As scared as she had once been of Borgov, it now seemed impossible to fear him again. What she felt was a thrill of excitement and a sweet ache between her legs.
Then, there was always the possibility to just ask him to stop. The problem with that was that Beth was certain he would do so at once, and then she would have no choice but to go back to her room, go to bed, and take care of her growing arousal on her own. It was a scenario that felt distinctly lacking.
She was acutely aware of Borgov’s body so close to hers. Beth had never consciously considered any man’s physical strength before, but now she felt Borgov’s in the ease with which he constrained her. He only needed to tighten the hand around her throat, press harder, and he would really hurt her, and she wouldn’t be able to fight him off.
It was a curiously elating feeling; to know that as long as she didn’t tell him to stop, she was helpless. It felt like when she was drunk. Drink enough, and alcohol took away all musts and responsibilities, enabling her to relax. Only now her mind didn’t feel clouded, and her senses dull, and she still could just let everything go. Here in this room with Vasily Borgov, she could let him take it all away from her. For as long as she stayed here with him, she could relish in being powerless and still feel free.
Beth let go of Borgov’s wrist, putting one hand on his shoulder and the other hand on his neck, tugging him closer.
“So, are you going to kiss me, or not?”
