The Number of Vices, chapter 8
May. 24th, 2021 05:46 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: 8/?
Word Count: 1628
Characters: Beth Harmon, Vasily Borgov, Luchenko, Mr. Booth, Mrs. Borgova, Kate Cameron
Pairings Beth Harmon/Vasily Borgov
Warnings: Angst, Rough sex, Uneven power dynamics, M/f, BDSM, Choking, Oral sex, Older man/Younger woman, Delayed orgasm, Spanking, King negotiation, Cold war
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
If Beth had been forced to wait for the door to open, she might have changed her mind again and left, but Borgov opened the door almost at once. She strode past him and paced his room as she just had paced her own. It felt like he must know of her need to drink just by looking at her, so she didn’t dare face him, at least not yet.
“Do you feel better now?”
“No.”
Beth caught her reflection in a mirror and paused. She looked a mess; her hair tousled and her eyeliner hopelessly smudged and she smoothed down her hair as best she could and rubbed at the makeup with a fingertip. The result was not very satisfactory, and she knew Borgov was looking at her. Reluctantly she turned away from the mirror; he was leaning against the door with his arms crossed, his face unreadable.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No! I don’t want tea!” And then, because it was better to get it over with. “I want a drink, that’s what I want!”
Beth could hear her voice rise, sounding childish and petulant, but she couldn’t help herself. She forced herself to meet his eyes so she wouldn’t miss the look of disappointment she dreaded so much. But her fearful expectations came to nothing. Borgov was looking at her intently, but there was no judgment in his eyes. He pushed away from the door and wrapped her in his arms, and Beth leaned her forehead against his chest. It was a comfort to feel his arms around her, a solid and warm presence, and some of her tension disappeared.
“I’m such a loser,” she murmured into his shirt. “How can I ever stop drinking completely if nothing more than a bad day makes me want to start again?”
Borgov rubbed her back in slow circles and pressed her a little closer to himself. “Did you really think you would never want to drink again? Is this truly the first time you wanted to since you stopped?”
It wasn’t. In fact, Beth had felt the tug several times, like the other day when she had been offered vodka in the dining room. But they had only lasted for a few moments, and she had pushed them away without difficulties, and very nearly forgotten all about them.
“I have, but not like today. I can’t stop thinking of drinking, no matter what I do.”
“So you wanted to drink today, and what is the result?”
“Result? I don’t understand.”
“Yes. You wanted a drink, and are you now in the bar having it?”
“You know I’m not.”
“Exactly. You are here with me, and that matters. Not that you want a drink, but that you, despite that, aren’t drinking one.”
“I haven’t thought of it like that.”
“I think you should. And to not belittle yourself if you stumble occasionally.”
Beth looked up at him. The craving was still there, tearing at her insides, but not with the same urgency.
“Mr. Borgov?”
“Vasily.”
“Vasily.” The knot inside loosened a little more. “I’m a little scared right now, and I want a drink and my mind hurts. I want you to take it away. Take care of me. I know you can. I knew it from our first night together.”
Borgov put his hands on her shoulders and took a step back, so he could look at her properly.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s only been three days since we talked to each other for the first time.”
“But we’ve known each other much longer.”
“Yes. Still, you know little of what I would like to do to you. I’m afraid to go too fast, and that I will frighten you away”
Beth, who hadn’t even considered that Borgov could feel uneasiness, chose her words carefully before she spoke again.
“Perhaps I don’t know that much, but I think I understand. I think you need to hurt me a bit because there is anger in you that never gets to go anywhere. Part of me is angry too, almost all the time. Do you know I’ve had to take responsibility for myself since I was very young? And not just for myself. I learned to make sure my first mother ate and changed clothes. I had to take responsibility for her before I could even read. With my second, it was almost the same. They loved me, but how could they tend to me when they didn’t know how to take care of themselves? At Methuen, well, they made sure I wasn’t hungry or cold, but they starved my mind. They didn’t allow me to play chess for years; I know you can imagine how hard that was for me.. And I’ve been completely alone since I was seventeen. It’s exhausting to always, always have the responsibility for oneself. Sometimes I need a little relief; just a few moments when I can let go of it all, and alcohol can give it to me. If I can’t have it, I need something else.“
Beth felt like she was flaying herself open, laying something bare she had barely acknowledged to herself, but she thought Borgov understood her. He pulled her closer again, and kissed her, a tender kiss, his hands gently cupping her face.
“Very well.” He turned her around and led her into his bedroom. “Take off your clothes and lay face down on the bed.”
Beth complied, propping herself up on her elbows so she could look at him. Borgov opened a drawer and removed a leather belt which he folded in the middle so he was holding it close to the ends, close to the buckle.
“Do you understand what I’m going to do?”
She felt a little breathless in anticipation and something that wasn’t fear but still made her shiver.
“You are going to hit me with that belt.”
“Yes. You can tell me to stop, at any time. Do you understand that too?”
“I know. I’m not scared.”
“Good.”
But even if Beth knew it would hurt, she wasn’t quite prepared for how the first slap to her buttocks would feel. She had been spanked occasionally as a child, a handful of barehanded slaps to a fully dressed backside. It had been uncomfortable; this was much worse. A sharp stinging pain, which then receded, only to be envied when the next slap came. Without meaning to she shifted, and the next time the belt landed on her hip, which hurt worse.
“Be still, or I might strike you somewhere I shouldn’t.”
“It’s difficult not to.”
“I see. It’s a pity this bed doesn’t lend itself to tie you down.”
Beth raised her head and looked at him over her shoulder. “Would you like to do that?”
“Very much, yes.”
“I have something to look forward to, then.”
Borgov suddenly smiled, and Beth’s heart swelled. She hadn’t seen him smile until she had won over him, but after that, he had given it to her often. Somehow she thought he only smiled to a select few, and she was one of them. He put a hand on the small of her back, holding her down securely, so she couldn’t move around anymore. Beth panted and pushed her face into the mattress. She didn’t want to scream, but she couldn’t help moaning with every new lick. But gradually the feeling changed. The stinging pain felt more like a quick burn, leaving a lingering warmth in its wake. She felt good, her tightly wound body relaxed, and though she realized Borgov was hitting her harder, she felt less and less discomfort. Intense heat spread throughout her body, pooling between her legs, and she pressed her tights together to try to relieve the growing ache of arousal. Closing her eyes, she let herself be rocked between the different sensations. Borgov stopped to skim a hand over her behind, then let it dip between her legs. Beth parted them willingly, relishing in his touch. Her body tensed again, in pleasure this time, and when her climax came, she tried in vain to muffle a scream.
Borgov stepped, and Beth turned to her side. She felt deeply relaxed, and the clawing need to drink was finally gone. Luxuriating in the feeling, she watched Borgov undress with keen appreciation. She liked the way he carefully removed his clothes, taking the time to hang or fold the garments carefully, like a gift unwrapping just for her. His movements were elegant and measured, unhurried, though she could tell from the way his cock strained against his trousers that he was eager to join her in the bed.
“You look so beautiful,” she sighed happily when he was finally naked.
Borgov raised an eyebrow. “Really? No one has ever told me that before.”
“They can’t have looked at you properly then.”
He slid into bed, curling up against her, with her back pressed flush against his chest, and her buttocks against his hard cock.
“I think you are the only one who can do that.”
He put a hand on her hip, tilting it so he could enter her from behind. The angle made him feel larger, and when he moved with slow, deep thrusts, she couldn’t contain a small cry of pleasure. Borgov kissed her neck, his movements gaining speed until he reached his own climax.
They remained close together, Beth tightly wrapped in Borgov’s arms. It might be an illusion, but at that moment she felt completely safe. She took his hands and kissed his palm, and he answered by caressing her face before he wrapped it around her waist. And like that, they both fell asleep.
Fandom: The Queen’s Gambit
Rating: Explicit
Chapters: 8/?
Word Count: 1628
Characters: Beth Harmon, Vasily Borgov, Luchenko, Mr. Booth, Mrs. Borgova, Kate Cameron
Pairings Beth Harmon/Vasily Borgov
Warnings: Angst, Rough sex, Uneven power dynamics, M/f, BDSM, Choking, Oral sex, Older man/Younger woman, Delayed orgasm, Spanking, King negotiation, Cold war
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
If Beth had been forced to wait for the door to open, she might have changed her mind again and left, but Borgov opened the door almost at once. She strode past him and paced his room as she just had paced her own. It felt like he must know of her need to drink just by looking at her, so she didn’t dare face him, at least not yet.
“Do you feel better now?”
“No.”
Beth caught her reflection in a mirror and paused. She looked a mess; her hair tousled and her eyeliner hopelessly smudged and she smoothed down her hair as best she could and rubbed at the makeup with a fingertip. The result was not very satisfactory, and she knew Borgov was looking at her. Reluctantly she turned away from the mirror; he was leaning against the door with his arms crossed, his face unreadable.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like a cup of tea?”
“No! I don’t want tea!” And then, because it was better to get it over with. “I want a drink, that’s what I want!”
Beth could hear her voice rise, sounding childish and petulant, but she couldn’t help herself. She forced herself to meet his eyes so she wouldn’t miss the look of disappointment she dreaded so much. But her fearful expectations came to nothing. Borgov was looking at her intently, but there was no judgment in his eyes. He pushed away from the door and wrapped her in his arms, and Beth leaned her forehead against his chest. It was a comfort to feel his arms around her, a solid and warm presence, and some of her tension disappeared.
“I’m such a loser,” she murmured into his shirt. “How can I ever stop drinking completely if nothing more than a bad day makes me want to start again?”
Borgov rubbed her back in slow circles and pressed her a little closer to himself. “Did you really think you would never want to drink again? Is this truly the first time you wanted to since you stopped?”
It wasn’t. In fact, Beth had felt the tug several times, like the other day when she had been offered vodka in the dining room. But they had only lasted for a few moments, and she had pushed them away without difficulties, and very nearly forgotten all about them.
“I have, but not like today. I can’t stop thinking of drinking, no matter what I do.”
“So you wanted to drink today, and what is the result?”
“Result? I don’t understand.”
“Yes. You wanted a drink, and are you now in the bar having it?”
“You know I’m not.”
“Exactly. You are here with me, and that matters. Not that you want a drink, but that you, despite that, aren’t drinking one.”
“I haven’t thought of it like that.”
“I think you should. And to not belittle yourself if you stumble occasionally.”
Beth looked up at him. The craving was still there, tearing at her insides, but not with the same urgency.
“Mr. Borgov?”
“Vasily.”
“Vasily.” The knot inside loosened a little more. “I’m a little scared right now, and I want a drink and my mind hurts. I want you to take it away. Take care of me. I know you can. I knew it from our first night together.”
Borgov put his hands on her shoulders and took a step back, so he could look at her properly.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s only been three days since we talked to each other for the first time.”
“But we’ve known each other much longer.”
“Yes. Still, you know little of what I would like to do to you. I’m afraid to go too fast, and that I will frighten you away”
Beth, who hadn’t even considered that Borgov could feel uneasiness, chose her words carefully before she spoke again.
“Perhaps I don’t know that much, but I think I understand. I think you need to hurt me a bit because there is anger in you that never gets to go anywhere. Part of me is angry too, almost all the time. Do you know I’ve had to take responsibility for myself since I was very young? And not just for myself. I learned to make sure my first mother ate and changed clothes. I had to take responsibility for her before I could even read. With my second, it was almost the same. They loved me, but how could they tend to me when they didn’t know how to take care of themselves? At Methuen, well, they made sure I wasn’t hungry or cold, but they starved my mind. They didn’t allow me to play chess for years; I know you can imagine how hard that was for me.. And I’ve been completely alone since I was seventeen. It’s exhausting to always, always have the responsibility for oneself. Sometimes I need a little relief; just a few moments when I can let go of it all, and alcohol can give it to me. If I can’t have it, I need something else.“
Beth felt like she was flaying herself open, laying something bare she had barely acknowledged to herself, but she thought Borgov understood her. He pulled her closer again, and kissed her, a tender kiss, his hands gently cupping her face.
“Very well.” He turned her around and led her into his bedroom. “Take off your clothes and lay face down on the bed.”
Beth complied, propping herself up on her elbows so she could look at him. Borgov opened a drawer and removed a leather belt which he folded in the middle so he was holding it close to the ends, close to the buckle.
“Do you understand what I’m going to do?”
She felt a little breathless in anticipation and something that wasn’t fear but still made her shiver.
“You are going to hit me with that belt.”
“Yes. You can tell me to stop, at any time. Do you understand that too?”
“I know. I’m not scared.”
“Good.”
But even if Beth knew it would hurt, she wasn’t quite prepared for how the first slap to her buttocks would feel. She had been spanked occasionally as a child, a handful of barehanded slaps to a fully dressed backside. It had been uncomfortable; this was much worse. A sharp stinging pain, which then receded, only to be envied when the next slap came. Without meaning to she shifted, and the next time the belt landed on her hip, which hurt worse.
“Be still, or I might strike you somewhere I shouldn’t.”
“It’s difficult not to.”
“I see. It’s a pity this bed doesn’t lend itself to tie you down.”
Beth raised her head and looked at him over her shoulder. “Would you like to do that?”
“Very much, yes.”
“I have something to look forward to, then.”
Borgov suddenly smiled, and Beth’s heart swelled. She hadn’t seen him smile until she had won over him, but after that, he had given it to her often. Somehow she thought he only smiled to a select few, and she was one of them. He put a hand on the small of her back, holding her down securely, so she couldn’t move around anymore. Beth panted and pushed her face into the mattress. She didn’t want to scream, but she couldn’t help moaning with every new lick. But gradually the feeling changed. The stinging pain felt more like a quick burn, leaving a lingering warmth in its wake. She felt good, her tightly wound body relaxed, and though she realized Borgov was hitting her harder, she felt less and less discomfort. Intense heat spread throughout her body, pooling between her legs, and she pressed her tights together to try to relieve the growing ache of arousal. Closing her eyes, she let herself be rocked between the different sensations. Borgov stopped to skim a hand over her behind, then let it dip between her legs. Beth parted them willingly, relishing in his touch. Her body tensed again, in pleasure this time, and when her climax came, she tried in vain to muffle a scream.
Borgov stepped, and Beth turned to her side. She felt deeply relaxed, and the clawing need to drink was finally gone. Luxuriating in the feeling, she watched Borgov undress with keen appreciation. She liked the way he carefully removed his clothes, taking the time to hang or fold the garments carefully, like a gift unwrapping just for her. His movements were elegant and measured, unhurried, though she could tell from the way his cock strained against his trousers that he was eager to join her in the bed.
“You look so beautiful,” she sighed happily when he was finally naked.
Borgov raised an eyebrow. “Really? No one has ever told me that before.”
“They can’t have looked at you properly then.”
He slid into bed, curling up against her, with her back pressed flush against his chest, and her buttocks against his hard cock.
“I think you are the only one who can do that.”
He put a hand on her hip, tilting it so he could enter her from behind. The angle made him feel larger, and when he moved with slow, deep thrusts, she couldn’t contain a small cry of pleasure. Borgov kissed her neck, his movements gaining speed until he reached his own climax.
They remained close together, Beth tightly wrapped in Borgov’s arms. It might be an illusion, but at that moment she felt completely safe. She took his hands and kissed his palm, and he answered by caressing her face before he wrapped it around her waist. And like that, they both fell asleep.
