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The Number of Vices, chapter 9
Writing is going just fine. This fic has changed a lot since I started to write it, but I think it works. In fact, three people have commented and said that they don’t normally enjoy fics with these tags, but that they actually think my fic is really good and they like it a lot. I’d say that’s pretty good reviewes. :)
Title: The Number of Vices
Fandom: The Queen’s Gambit
Rating: Explicit
Chapters: 9/?
Word Count: 1786
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
Beth’s remaining days in Moscow passed quickly. Borgov quietly changed her planned program from sightseeing to more chess-related activities. Beth suspected it was as much to his relief as her own. They visited a reportedly unusually good chess club at a local school, and Beth got a sudden sense of déjà vu when it became clear they expected her to play chess with all the members, all boys, at once.
“Why me, and not you?” Beth asked Borgov. “Aren’t you a more illustrious guest?”
“I think they much rather lose to you than to me.”
Beth considered the glances the schoolboys gave Borgov, which seemed to be an equal mix of awe and fear, and nodded.
“Of course. We don’t want them traumatized for life, do we?”
Borgov’s eyes danced. “Precisely.”
The children were much better players than the chess club she had annihilated when she was nine, but the games were quickly over and done with, anyway. Her effect on the boys was dramatically different. When all the games were finished, she found herself at the center of such complete adoration she felt quite touched.
“I think you have just made a whole chess club determined to become grandmasters,” Borgov murmured in her ear when they left.
There were also meetings with various chess players, and after some debating on the how’s, an impromptu chess tournament was arranged in Borgov’s hotel suite. It was a lot of fun, and Beth got to play against Luchenko again, to their mutual pleasure. She won again, which seemed to delight the old man enormously. No one seemed very surprised when it ended with Beth meeting Borgov again. It garnered quite some attention with the room crammed not only by the other chess players but the staff and hotel guests as well. To Beth’s annoyance and Borgov’s amusement, the match ended with a draw.
But Beth couldn’t help noticing that other people always surrounded Borgov and her, and there was no opportunity to speak alone. She had long since accepted that they bugged their rooms; her embarrassment that someone might hear her and Borgov at nighttime was by far outweighed by her need to be with him, as she was very aware they may never be able to be this close again. Mr. Booth only left her alone because he was waiting for his bone, and because he knew she had realized he had screwed up. And the Soviets let them be because they hoped she would stay; the next time they met they wouldn’t be so lenient. If Borgov wasn’t able to defect, then they would only meet over the chessboard, and for Beth that seemed like a very bleak future.
The next-to-last evening in Moscow there was a more official dinner with Luchenko and several of the chess players Beth had got to know in the past weeks. It was all very cordial, but Beth would have enjoyed it more if Mr. Ivanov hadn’t joined them. Beth had still not been informed of what his position actually was, but from the other guests’ excessive politeness without a smidgen of warmth, she could at least deduce they did not like him, but also that no one dared to snub him. And, inevitably, he insisted on having a conversation with her.
“I gather you have enjoyed your extended stay in Moscow.”
“Yes, very much so,” Beth answered truthfully.
“It’s my pleasure to offer you an extended stay. The Soviet Union has so much to offer, though I’m sure you have had time to sample some of its pleasure.”
“It’s very tempting, but I have obligations to people back home. I would love to return, but I have business I need to finish first.”
“Ah, well, now that we are friends I must insist you will let me help you any way you can in the hope of your imminent return.”
Beth smiled and thanked him and fled as soon as she could. Later, when she was alone with Borgov in her room, she couldn’t settle. She felt edgy and vaguely worried; and she knew that if she had been alone, she would have felt a lot more like she needed a drink than she did now. Her conversation with Mr. Ivanov had left a lingering feeling of having touched something that had left a sticky substance all over her.
When Borgov kissed her she answered fiercely, urging him to touch her harder, to go faster, anything to chase away the feeling they were running out of time, without succeeding. Time was almost over now, and there was nothing to be done about it.
After, as they lay naked and painting on the bed, Beth splayed her fingers over the marks Borgov’s hands had left on her hip.
“They’ll be fading soon,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I don’t want that. I want to have something with me that lasts. Can you do something to me, something which will leave a scar?”
“No, absolutely not.”
“It doesn’t have to be big.”
“I said no!”
“Why?”
“Because I refuse to harm you permanently, that’s why. What do you think you would feel about it when you come home, and you regret all this?”
“Who says I will regret it?”
“It seems far more likely than anything else.”
Beth’s anger flared up suddenly and intensely. “Well, if I regret it, then it would serve me well to have a reminder of the idiocy of falling in love with a man half a world away.”
Beth closed her mouth, mortified, and twisted away from Borgov. She hadn’t meant to say it, but now it was out, and she did not know how he would react.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
He put his hand on her shoulders, his finger fingers digging in painfully, though his voice was very soft.
“Not nothing. Speak up.”
“I’m in love with you, all right? I know it’s foolish.”
“Well then, it seems we have been foolish, both of us.”
Beth turned around again, staring at him. “What?”
“I’m in love with you, too. Haven’t it been obvious?”
Thinking back over the past few days, Beth could suddenly see several hints.
“I guess I was too afraid to believe it.”
“I guess I was too.”
Beth put her hand to his cheek, caressing it slowly, and Borgov mirrored her gesture, his eyes looking into hers like she was some kind of miracle. Perhaps she was; he had talked little of his dead marriage, but he must be as starved of genuine affection and intimacy as she was. No wonder neither of them had dared to think the other might feel more than just casual gratification.
“I don’t want to go home.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
They slept little that night, talking about the life they would have when she returned, though they both knew she wouldn’t. For just tonight Beth didn’t want to think of how precarious any kind of future for them would be, and to dream of being happy instead.
In the evening, the day before her return, Beth sat in an armchair in Borgov’s room and watched him pack. He was going home by train very early in the morning, while Beth, whose plane didn’t depart until the evening, had decided to not pack until he was gone. They had spent the day quietly, playing chess in his room with the door open as they had the first evening. Under normal circumstances, Beth would have likened watching someone pack as something as exciting as watching paint dry, but she enjoyed watching Borgov. She liked the way he moved about, and the care he took with his clothes and other belongings. Beth smoked and Borgov packed both in silence until he came to his ties.
“They really are horrendous, you know.”
Borgov watched them thoughtfully. “Do you think so? I find them amusing. But if it would please you, I can acquire a few more sober ones.”
“No, change nothing! I like them on you, even if they are terrible.”
Borgov smiled. “Well, if you change your mind, just tell me. You know I will always try to please you regardless of what you ask of me.”
Beth’s eyes narrowed. None of them had tried to speak about anything that shouldn’t be overheard, but she thought this must be a connection to their first brief conversation. She still hadn’t been able to find out if Borgov planned to defect alone, or with his family, but now she got an idea.
“Are you looking forward to going home again?”
“Yes, and no. I don’t look forward to leaving, but I have also been away far longer than I had planned, and my son misses me.”
“Do you enjoy being a father?”
“Yes, I do. It amazes me to see how he changes. Sometimes, it seems, in the blink of an eye. I look forward to seeing him grow up I wouldn’t want to miss that for anything.”
He glanced at Beth and stood up straight. “What’s the matter?”
Beth shook her head mutely. That was the answer she wanted, but somehow it had also given her a big lump in her throat. She swallowed hard and found her voice again.
“I’ve had two fathers, None of them wanted to see me grow up.”
Borgov left his suitcase and kneeled down in front of her armchair and took her hands in his. Beth hadn’t realized how cold they had become until Borgov’s warm ones enveloped them.
“They must have been very stupid men, then.”
It became too much for Beth. She hated to cry, and to do it when someone could see was even worse. But now the tears came. First as a silent flood of anguish, but when she had started, she couldn’t stop. She leaned forward, awkwardly leaning against Borgov’s shoulder, and sobbed helplessly. Over things, she thought she had forgotten all about, over their coming separation, and the uncertain future. He didn’t speak, and she was grateful; there was nothing he could say to make it better, and she was incapable of any kind of coherence.
When she had cried herself empty, Borgov pulled her up and led her into the bathroom. Beth was too exhausted to protest as he washed her face, then he put her to bed, dressed in his pajamas jacket, which she gratefully snuggled into. He quickly finished his packing and came to the bed as well. Too tired for sex, or even talking, Beth crept close to him. Borgov held her close, too close to be really comfortable, but she only hugged him back, almost as fiercely. And despite her exhaustion, it took her a long time to fall asleep.
Title: The Number of Vices
Fandom: The Queen’s Gambit
Rating: Explicit
Chapters: 9/?
Word Count: 1786
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
Beth’s remaining days in Moscow passed quickly. Borgov quietly changed her planned program from sightseeing to more chess-related activities. Beth suspected it was as much to his relief as her own. They visited a reportedly unusually good chess club at a local school, and Beth got a sudden sense of déjà vu when it became clear they expected her to play chess with all the members, all boys, at once.
“Why me, and not you?” Beth asked Borgov. “Aren’t you a more illustrious guest?”
“I think they much rather lose to you than to me.”
Beth considered the glances the schoolboys gave Borgov, which seemed to be an equal mix of awe and fear, and nodded.
“Of course. We don’t want them traumatized for life, do we?”
Borgov’s eyes danced. “Precisely.”
The children were much better players than the chess club she had annihilated when she was nine, but the games were quickly over and done with, anyway. Her effect on the boys was dramatically different. When all the games were finished, she found herself at the center of such complete adoration she felt quite touched.
“I think you have just made a whole chess club determined to become grandmasters,” Borgov murmured in her ear when they left.
There were also meetings with various chess players, and after some debating on the how’s, an impromptu chess tournament was arranged in Borgov’s hotel suite. It was a lot of fun, and Beth got to play against Luchenko again, to their mutual pleasure. She won again, which seemed to delight the old man enormously. No one seemed very surprised when it ended with Beth meeting Borgov again. It garnered quite some attention with the room crammed not only by the other chess players but the staff and hotel guests as well. To Beth’s annoyance and Borgov’s amusement, the match ended with a draw.
But Beth couldn’t help noticing that other people always surrounded Borgov and her, and there was no opportunity to speak alone. She had long since accepted that they bugged their rooms; her embarrassment that someone might hear her and Borgov at nighttime was by far outweighed by her need to be with him, as she was very aware they may never be able to be this close again. Mr. Booth only left her alone because he was waiting for his bone, and because he knew she had realized he had screwed up. And the Soviets let them be because they hoped she would stay; the next time they met they wouldn’t be so lenient. If Borgov wasn’t able to defect, then they would only meet over the chessboard, and for Beth that seemed like a very bleak future.
The next-to-last evening in Moscow there was a more official dinner with Luchenko and several of the chess players Beth had got to know in the past weeks. It was all very cordial, but Beth would have enjoyed it more if Mr. Ivanov hadn’t joined them. Beth had still not been informed of what his position actually was, but from the other guests’ excessive politeness without a smidgen of warmth, she could at least deduce they did not like him, but also that no one dared to snub him. And, inevitably, he insisted on having a conversation with her.
“I gather you have enjoyed your extended stay in Moscow.”
“Yes, very much so,” Beth answered truthfully.
“It’s my pleasure to offer you an extended stay. The Soviet Union has so much to offer, though I’m sure you have had time to sample some of its pleasure.”
“It’s very tempting, but I have obligations to people back home. I would love to return, but I have business I need to finish first.”
“Ah, well, now that we are friends I must insist you will let me help you any way you can in the hope of your imminent return.”
Beth smiled and thanked him and fled as soon as she could. Later, when she was alone with Borgov in her room, she couldn’t settle. She felt edgy and vaguely worried; and she knew that if she had been alone, she would have felt a lot more like she needed a drink than she did now. Her conversation with Mr. Ivanov had left a lingering feeling of having touched something that had left a sticky substance all over her.
When Borgov kissed her she answered fiercely, urging him to touch her harder, to go faster, anything to chase away the feeling they were running out of time, without succeeding. Time was almost over now, and there was nothing to be done about it.
After, as they lay naked and painting on the bed, Beth splayed her fingers over the marks Borgov’s hands had left on her hip.
“They’ll be fading soon,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I don’t want that. I want to have something with me that lasts. Can you do something to me, something which will leave a scar?”
“No, absolutely not.”
“It doesn’t have to be big.”
“I said no!”
“Why?”
“Because I refuse to harm you permanently, that’s why. What do you think you would feel about it when you come home, and you regret all this?”
“Who says I will regret it?”
“It seems far more likely than anything else.”
Beth’s anger flared up suddenly and intensely. “Well, if I regret it, then it would serve me well to have a reminder of the idiocy of falling in love with a man half a world away.”
Beth closed her mouth, mortified, and twisted away from Borgov. She hadn’t meant to say it, but now it was out, and she did not know how he would react.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
He put his hand on her shoulders, his finger fingers digging in painfully, though his voice was very soft.
“Not nothing. Speak up.”
“I’m in love with you, all right? I know it’s foolish.”
“Well then, it seems we have been foolish, both of us.”
Beth turned around again, staring at him. “What?”
“I’m in love with you, too. Haven’t it been obvious?”
Thinking back over the past few days, Beth could suddenly see several hints.
“I guess I was too afraid to believe it.”
“I guess I was too.”
Beth put her hand to his cheek, caressing it slowly, and Borgov mirrored her gesture, his eyes looking into hers like she was some kind of miracle. Perhaps she was; he had talked little of his dead marriage, but he must be as starved of genuine affection and intimacy as she was. No wonder neither of them had dared to think the other might feel more than just casual gratification.
“I don’t want to go home.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
They slept little that night, talking about the life they would have when she returned, though they both knew she wouldn’t. For just tonight Beth didn’t want to think of how precarious any kind of future for them would be, and to dream of being happy instead.
In the evening, the day before her return, Beth sat in an armchair in Borgov’s room and watched him pack. He was going home by train very early in the morning, while Beth, whose plane didn’t depart until the evening, had decided to not pack until he was gone. They had spent the day quietly, playing chess in his room with the door open as they had the first evening. Under normal circumstances, Beth would have likened watching someone pack as something as exciting as watching paint dry, but she enjoyed watching Borgov. She liked the way he moved about, and the care he took with his clothes and other belongings. Beth smoked and Borgov packed both in silence until he came to his ties.
“They really are horrendous, you know.”
Borgov watched them thoughtfully. “Do you think so? I find them amusing. But if it would please you, I can acquire a few more sober ones.”
“No, change nothing! I like them on you, even if they are terrible.”
Borgov smiled. “Well, if you change your mind, just tell me. You know I will always try to please you regardless of what you ask of me.”
Beth’s eyes narrowed. None of them had tried to speak about anything that shouldn’t be overheard, but she thought this must be a connection to their first brief conversation. She still hadn’t been able to find out if Borgov planned to defect alone, or with his family, but now she got an idea.
“Are you looking forward to going home again?”
“Yes, and no. I don’t look forward to leaving, but I have also been away far longer than I had planned, and my son misses me.”
“Do you enjoy being a father?”
“Yes, I do. It amazes me to see how he changes. Sometimes, it seems, in the blink of an eye. I look forward to seeing him grow up I wouldn’t want to miss that for anything.”
He glanced at Beth and stood up straight. “What’s the matter?”
Beth shook her head mutely. That was the answer she wanted, but somehow it had also given her a big lump in her throat. She swallowed hard and found her voice again.
“I’ve had two fathers, None of them wanted to see me grow up.”
Borgov left his suitcase and kneeled down in front of her armchair and took her hands in his. Beth hadn’t realized how cold they had become until Borgov’s warm ones enveloped them.
“They must have been very stupid men, then.”
It became too much for Beth. She hated to cry, and to do it when someone could see was even worse. But now the tears came. First as a silent flood of anguish, but when she had started, she couldn’t stop. She leaned forward, awkwardly leaning against Borgov’s shoulder, and sobbed helplessly. Over things, she thought she had forgotten all about, over their coming separation, and the uncertain future. He didn’t speak, and she was grateful; there was nothing he could say to make it better, and she was incapable of any kind of coherence.
When she had cried herself empty, Borgov pulled her up and led her into the bathroom. Beth was too exhausted to protest as he washed her face, then he put her to bed, dressed in his pajamas jacket, which she gratefully snuggled into. He quickly finished his packing and came to the bed as well. Too tired for sex, or even talking, Beth crept close to him. Borgov held her close, too close to be really comfortable, but she only hugged him back, almost as fiercely. And despite her exhaustion, it took her a long time to fall asleep.
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I got a few comments like this over the years, and they always fascinate me. I want to ask, "If this isn't something you normally read, what made you click on it?" but I never have the courage to actually do it.
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