Work Text:
While he was fully capable of sitting still for hours at a time - he was a chess player after all - Vasily Borgov was a man of action. He had dedicated his life to what he had always seen as the great love of his life, which was that challenging and beautiful game played with thirty-two pieces on sixty-four squares, both of them equally divided between black and white. It was its own little world and something he could easily control, like he could with so little else in his life.
His other outlet for this frustration was physical activity. He liked to go for runs outside when the weather permitted, went to the communal indoor swimming pool in winter in order to immerse himself in the warm water and propel his body forward in it for as long as his strength held, or did what exercise he could inside his home when the weather was too bad to go outside.
Even when he was away on international tournaments he kept up with this aspect of his life and the KGB had soon learned to only send agents with him that could keep up with his running if the destination allowed for the activity. Enough of them had grumbled and complained at the start and kept him indoors, which usually affected his performance since physical exercise helped clear and sharpen his mind, and with his status as a rising star, his need had been deemed more important and the necessary changes in the KGB roster had been implemented.
When he married this had not changed. In the initial few years of sharing his life with Polina, he had simply transferred some of his energy output to the bedroom, but his wife was of a more delicate constitution and before long he had had to limit himself in that endeavour. And after she fell pregnant there had only been sex when a craving for it had hit her. He had always been courteous and respectful of her wishes, but soon a sense of bereavement had sneaked into his heart, and it was the start of their downfall. Not that they did not still feel fond of each other, but as Boris was born and Polina dedicated herself to motherhood and he prepared to qualify for the Candidates matches and hopefully be able to challenge his old friend and mentor, Luchenko, for the title of World Champion, what had once been romantic love cooled and settled into a strong friendship and all of his physical activities was once more done on his own, or at the most with a KGB shadow.
Only a few years after Beth Harmon had entered his life, first as a name on a file he had been given and then as a person made up of flesh and blood in Mexico City, that had no longer been enough. His inexplicable yet so inevitable attraction to her had started in Paris and grown so strong during her time in Moscow that he had felt compelled to tell his wife about it. She had admitted to finding a new love too, and their divorce was a fact half a year later.
That his attraction was reciprocated he had little doubt about. The young prodigy might not wear her heart entirely on her sleeve, but the look in her large eyes when she looked at him was unmistakable. Their affair had started at the first tournament they both participated in after his divorce got through and he had once more felt the rush and satisfaction only sex could give. Being with her also made him feel younger. Not that he was old, just older, but he definitely felt much more energetic after they had met, and he had even increased his exercise regimen.
But now, that was all about to change. After the most eventful year of his life so far, with losing the title to her, his immediate defection, and spending three agonising months under the strict protection of the American government to wait for the fallout to settle and die down, cut off from everything and everyone, he is finally allowed to join Beth at her home in Lexington.
Mr Booth, the stern-faced agent who has been in charge of his defection since Beth conveyed his desire for it to her handler, being perfectly placed to communicate with him as he travelled along with Beth to all international tournaments, sits in the government car as it takes them from the airport and into the suburbs. He has already been briefed on the security measures set in place around the house, which number to call or where to go if something happens, yet the straightlaced man repeats it all before they turn onto the correct street and come to a stop in front of the blue house he has only seen in pictures so far.
The red of Beth’s hair is visible in the window despite the reflection of the sun, and he is eager to get inside and finally see her again for the first time since Reykjavik. The few pictures he has, mostly cut-outs of articles since it would have been too dangerous to show too much interest outside the strictly physical affair he had explained it as to the KGB, has not been enough. Not that they have been able to see each other for more than stolen moments and late nights while at the same tournaments, with months between them, but that is all the more reason for his longing for this moment. When there will be no more impediments to them having all the time in the world.
“Here you go” Mr Booth says and holds out the briefcase that had been standing next to him the entire drive. “All your necessary papers. I’ll come by in a month to see how you have settled in or if you have noticed anything suspicious. Good luck.”
He reaches out and shakes the man’s hand after accepting the briefcase, a sort of understanding having sprung up between them, being somewhat similar in disposition, though he prides himself on his humour not being quite as dry – close to non-existent – as Mr Booth’s.
“Thank you for everything. I could not have done this without you” he replies.
The other man simply nods in reply and then he is out of the car. The agents who sat in the front seat has already exited and brought out his luggage and carried it to the front door by then, so all he has to do is go up there and ring the doorbell. He has barely pressed it when the door is yanked open and a blur of red attacks him with such force he nearly topples over as she launches herself into his embrace, her arms tight around his shoulders and neck while her legs encircle his waist. Her face buries itself into his neck and he can feel the deep breath she takes, eager to inhale the sent of him, just as he is with her.
“Lyubimaya” he whispers into her hair, and he can feel her entire body shudder at the endearment.
“You’re finally here” she replies, muffled by his body as she refuses to budge from her position, and he can do nothing but smile.
“Yes. And I’m never leaving you again” he says softly, stroking her back as he does so and feels her relaxing against him, but does not let her down yet as her grip on him remains firm. Instead, he simply takes the few steps required to take them inside, so they can avoid sharing any more of this intimate moment with possible nosy neighbours.
A quick look back shows that the car has just started to move and soon they are on their own, free to start their new life together.
Beth takes him on a tour of the house, showing him his new home, and then proceeds to follow him around the rest of the day, the only time her eyes leave him being when he has to use the bathroom, and only then after he has to stop her in the doorway. But as his eyes are on her nearly as much, he cannot fault her for it.
The months between tournaments, while difficult, were nothing in comparison to these last ones. The uncertainty of the success of his defection, and what would have happened if he failed, was a level of stress that had hit them both hard, but while he had been sequestered away in a safe location and kept away from the world, she had to go on with her normal life.
He cooks them dinner after he has unpacked his belongings, which honestly does not take long since all he owns now is what he had with him to Reykjavik. His entire life consisting of what would fit inside two suitcases. At least Mr Booth had been very useful in helping him funnel money into useful places, and he was assured that his prize money from the World Champion match against Beth – which is a significant sum despite him losing – will be deposited into his new American bank account and never cross the border into the USSR. Beth will simply have to take him shopping soon.
After their simple meal they clean up after themselves, him with his hands down in the soapy water and her with a towel in hand and putting everything away since he has yet to learn where anything is supposed to be. The house is still a strange place to him, so far from anything he had seen in either Leningrad or Moscow, but with Beth there, it already feels like home.
“Come. Let’s go upstairs” she suggests once the final plate has been put away in the correct cupboard and the towel returned to its own place. “I’m still too excited to sleep, but you’ve always been so good at tiring me out.”
He does not need to be askes twice. Ever since he arrived the desire to be intimate with her again has buzzed at the back of his mind and he is happy to take the hand she offers and let her lead him up the starts and into what is now their bedroom.
The moment he closes the door behind them, she lets go of him and both of her hands are on his shirt, unbuttoning it with a quickness that shows her familiarity with not only the action, but the need to get it done as quickly as possible. Time has rarely been on their side, and even he can feel the need to be urgent, since in the past, there has always been a deadline and more time spent undressing meant less time enjoying each other. But that is all over now. They can take as much time as they want.
However, just as they have looked at each other almost exclusively since his arrival, there is another force at play. A deep need to be reassured of the reality of it all. That neither of them is having a dream and that he is truly there with her, in the blue house that has been her home since before her chess career started. So, instead of protesting, he allows himself to be swept up in that need and his fingers go to the little bow at the top of the blouse she is wearing, untying it.
Soon, their clothes are strewn across the floor, landing in various piles wherever they happened to land after being pulled of and thrown to the side in the haste to get to the next item. Her delicate lace underwear is the last thing to go, and he halts himself enough to show the reverence he feels when slowly pealing them off of her, making sure she feels every last millimetre of it as he lets them glide down her long legs while he knees down in front of her. Seeing that the bed is right behind her, he reaches up and pushed enough against her that she falls down on it, then takes advantage of her momentarily surprise to push those lovely legs apart and lean forward so he can taste her.
“Vasya” she breathes at the contact, her body twitching in a way that only brings her closer and he puts his arms around her thighs to help steady her when he reaches out with his tongue, plunging it into her hot core.
As he had anticipated, she bucks against him and would most likely have bumped into his nose uncomfortably if he had not held her down. It had happened once before and was not something he ever wanted to repeat as it had rather killed the mood for a few minutes until the pain receded.
One of her hands finds it way into his hair, her slender fingers carding into his dark strands and taking hold. Not enough to hurt, but just to help guide him if needed. But he knows her well enough by now and is fully aware of how to work her into a frenzy, both slowly and quickly. But her eagerness is in need of a reward, and he lets go of her with one arm so he can press a finger into her while focusing his attention on her clit, sucking it into his mouth and lightly graze it with his teeth.
“Yes! Yes, Vasya! Please! More!”
Her pleas are the sweetest of music to his ears and to have her this responsive to and appreciative of him is such a rush to him. They both hold power over the other when it comes to sex and is not afraid to use it or relinquish control. It is a wonderful thing to share such trust with someone.
When he adds a second finger her back arches up off the bed and a sound she only makes when she is close to release escapes her to his surprise. Usually, she lasts longer than this. But then, they have both lives with the possibility of never seeing each other again since they parted after the prize ceremony in Reykjavik and such pressure might make for a different kind of release than they have grown used to.
She is panting his name with shorter and shorter intervals, and he barely has time to add a third finger before it leaves her lips in a familiar shout, her entire body tensing up while her release flows even more freely into his eager moth. Then, it is as if she turns boneless, and can do nothing buy lay there, catching her breath, while he makes sure to catch every last drop of her before moving away.
“My darling Beth” he says as he looks down on her, body still sprawled out in the position she was in when reaching euphoria.
Dazedly she blinks up at him, as if not fully comprehending that he is truly there, but then a lazy but oh so pleased smile spreads on her face, brown eyes made even more beautiful by the love that shines in them and he feels his heart both speed up and calm down at the same time.
“Come here” she says and pats beside her, ruffling the sheets even more.
As with everything she offers or invites him to, he immediately accepts, and soon has her curling up against him as he lies down on his side. Feeling her naked body pressed against his own in and marvelling at how well they fit. One of her feet starts a game of footsie with both of his and even if he cannot see her face in their current position, he is sure she is smirking. He retaliates by capturing it between his ankles and holding them together firmly enough that she cannot get free, but without causing any discomfort.
“You know” he hears her mumble against his shoulder, the one of her hands not stuck between them, starting to draw lazy circles on his back, “I’ve dreamt of this moment for so long I can hardly believe it’s finally here.”
“I know. I have done the same. The thought of this, of being able to be with you not only without political risk or pressure but also in the open has been the main thing to sustain me during all of this. Especially during those four days at sea in that fishing boat down to Scotland. It might have been large and sturdy enough to have a few cabins, but I’ve never been much for sea voyage. Not to mention the constant smell of fish.”
“Then I’ll be forever grateful for your impressive dedication to joining me here. And speaking of impressive things” she replies and a moment later he can feel how her hand slides from his back, around to his front and down to take hold of his member.
But when she starts to glide her grip along it, he stops her.
“Please don’t. I have longed to be inside you for so long, my own hand the only substitute, and a poor one at that. So, as much as I adore your hands, lyubimaya” he pulls her hand to his lips so he can press a kiss to her palm, “I want to feel the real thing now. As soon as you are ready, I want to lay on top of you and look into your eyes while I slowly press inside and feel that warm and welcoming heat. Feel your pulse quicken as I move inside you, slowly at first but then quicker and quicker as we lose ourselves in shared passion. Then feel you fluttering around me before that final grip when you reach the end. Will you give me that?” he asks, leaning away enough so that he can see her face.
“Yes” she replies after she raises her gaze to him. “I want to give that to you. I want to give everything to you.”
“And you already have all of me, lyubimaya. I am yours.”
And with those words he slowly turns them, so he is on top of her, giving her plenty of time to object if she is still not ready after her recent orgasm, but she only moves her hand to his shoulder in preparation of finding purchase against him once the dance begins.
His eyes are locked on hers as he parts her legs and then lines up at her entrance. Her breathing turns shallow at his actions, but her eyes remain resolute, and her chin raised in that pride he knows she takes in being able to give him pleasure, in being the only one he wants it from. He feels the same for her. There is no need to say how they feel for each other in that moment as everything screams their love, simply in a frequency too high for the human ear to register.
Sliding into her is like coming home. The blue house they are in might be his new place to live, but Beth will always and forever be where his heart dwells. It does not matter what walls surrounds them so long as he has her in his arms.
He continues until he bottoms out and then lowers his head until his brow rests against hers, sharing the air they breathe as they both savour the moment. Those long legs rise up and encircles him not long after, urging him to move. He complies.
The pleasure of feeling her around him again is enough for him to lose himself in it all from time to time and her forgets to study her reactions on and off. But he does delight in the hitch in her breath when he hits the right spot inside of her, the way her eyelids flutter when his fingers gently glide against her side in a caress, or the way his name leaves her kiss swollen lips in benediction when his thumb brushes against her clit.
His beloved Beth is the finest instrument the world has ever produced, and he is forever grateful to be the one allowed to study her, and he can only hope he will one day come at least close to being able to play her with perfection and coax the most divine of sounds out of her. And now, he has as many hours as he wants to practice.
Vasily thinks himself in heaven when those flutters begin that always prelude her release and doubles his effort to drive her to as high a top as possible before she can tumble down into bliss. A sheen of perspiration adorns her brow like a shiny circlet worthy of the queen she now is. Not long after he hears his name shouted for the second time and it is not long before he follows her, barely pulling out in time and somewhere in the roar that is his euphoria a small part of him longs for a time when he no longer has to part from her before that ultimate crest is reached.
After taking a few minutes to get their breathing back under control and some energy to move, they crawl under the blanket and lie down with their heads on the pillows, only for him to have to heave himself out of the bed a few seconds later so he can go and turn off the light. At her request he also pulls the curtains then finally, for the first time, he can fall asleep next to Beth with no alarm set for an ungodly hour so he can sneak back to his own room before he is missed.
As it turns out, Beth is a clingy sleeper. When Vasily wakes up early as usual he finds that his bed companion has not only moved over to him during the night but has a good part of her body covering his, with her head resting on his shoulder, an arm slung over his chest and a leg tangled with his while her front is pressed to his side. Her breathing ghosts over his bare chest and he could see how her eyes moved beneath her eyelids, making her lashes flutter. He wonders what she is dreaming about, hoping it is something pleasant.
His arm has also moved during the night and rests around her, helping to hold her close to him. It is not something he ever did with Polina, but then she was not one to seek him out either, so he cannot say for sure if it is down to him or the person next to him that he has done so.
With the curtains closed it is hard to tell the time. He has always slept with them open since he is a morning person, and it is disorienting for him to find himself in relative darkness. At least there is enough light for him to see Beth. But that also means he can see the frown that appears on her face when he tries to disentangle himself from her, eager to start his day. Not willing to wake her up he sinks back the few centimetres he had risen and watches as the creases in her forehead smooth back out.
He takes the time to appreciate being able to see her like this, calmly asleep in his arms instead of watching him with bleary eyes as he rises from the bed after the alarm wakes them both up and he hurries to get dressed and leave her. The thought of risking her waking up to seeing him leave the room, or even an empty bed, turns his blood into ice and he abandons the second attempt to get up he had planned on.
Letting the early morning hours pass him by like this, remaining inactive when he ought to go for a run, is like an itch in his legs, and the only way to scratch it is to give in. It tests his resolve in a way he is unused to endure. The strain he familiar with is mental. The position he sometimes finds himself in when playing a great opponent during a game of chess and he has to use all of his knowledge and experience to edge out a win, all the times the KGB questioned him after a tournament outside the Soviet Union, and the constant pressure of the Kremlin’s high expectations on him. The last two are gone now, and without them the first is only down to personal pride, rather than a necessity to win to keep himself away from consequences.
The minutes tick away, and he can only watch passively as the light that filters in around the curtains grows brighter. Beth remains still in her position, showing no signs of waking up and he wonders how long she usually sleeps in the morning. There has never been a chance for him to fins out before and he never thought to ask.
Born and raised in the USSR as he is, this idleness goes against everything he has been taught. Everything he has learned he needs to do in order to survive. Sure, the propaganda always described the Americans as greedy yet lazy, but with Beth being his only real experience with them and there was no true greed in her, he had never even considered the fact that she might be lazy. Chess players at their level surely could not be so or they would never reach that far.
About two hours later the itching in his legs reach a crescendo and he is on the verge of simply getting up no matter what when Beth suddenly moves, and the motion is aborted even before it could begin. He turns his eyes to her and watches in fascination as her eyes flutter open and then groans as she yawns wide and stretches her body out to the fullest against him, pressing her breasts into his side.
“Good morning” she mumbles when she has returned to her original position, eyes in that familiar bleary state as she looks up at him.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” he asks.
“The best. You’re an amazing pillow I’ll have you know” she replies and turns her head enough so she can reach to kiss his chest. “You?”
“Better than in a very long time.”
He can see in her face as she wakes up more and more, even if she seems content to remain in this almost half-awake state, but for someone like her it is near impossible to keep her mind from gearing up and tackle the day. Her gaze travels his face, and he can see what question she is about to ask before she has formed the words.
“How long have you been awake then? You don’t look tired at all.”
“For some time” he replies, unsure of the exact amount and not wanting to make her feel guilty in any way for keeping him in bed for so long.
“Far too long, it seems. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about those early morning runs you’ve mentioned liking. Not that I’ll ever understand wanting to do something so crazy when you can simply stay in bed and sleep, but to each their own, I guess. Also, I can’t really complain about the stamina they give you. You’ve always been insatiable when it comes to sex, which I love by the way. Mmmm. All those ways you can hold me. We can explore much more with that now. Find some good spots in every room even.”
“We can do that, yes” he agrees, feeling the first stirrings of desire awaken in him at the thought of taking her while she sits on the kitchen counter, or from behind while she leans over the table, or while they take a bath in the tub. There are countless possibilities.
“I’ll hold you to that. Now, would you mind terrible to stay with me a little while longer before going on your run? I love staying in bed for a while and it can only be better with your company.”
“Can we play a game of chess while doing it?” he asks, still hoping to get something done at the same time, his mind protesting such frivolous idleness.
“Nope” she says, popping the p. “I’d be utterly unfair since you’ve been awake for so long and I’ve only just woken up. Or do you want to cheat, mister?”
By the time they get up it has started to rain and there is no point in him going for a run. He would only risk coming back with a cold and being bedridden due to anything other than Beth’s company is not something he wants. Instead, they spend the day curled up together in the couch while she teaches him about American television. The programs they air are so different from what little they produce in the USSR and most of it seem utterly meaningless to him. But Beth seems entertained enough for him to go along and he holds her closer when a show comes on that she says was Alma’s favourite.
He had caught glimpses of the woman who saved Beth from that horrible sounding orphanage and enabled her to return to chess at the hotel in Mexico City. Most often it was in the hotel restaurant during breakfast, but the few times he had seen her outside that hall it was almost exclusively in the company of some Mexican man rather than with her daughter. He had also never seen her in the audience for one of Beth’s games, most notably the one against him. He might not have looked up at her, but he had still noticed the empty chair between those twins she is still friends with.
But despite that, he knew how much Alma had meant to Beth and that there was still a measure of pain in her when she was reminded of her late mother. This time he feels it in the sudden tenseness of her body, hears it in the underlying wobbliness of her laugh, and sees it in the way her eyes have a hard time remaining on the screen as well as the eagerness with which she turns towards him when he speaks her name.
“Yes?” she asks, her eyes beginning him to give her a reason to stop watching the show without having to say why.
“How about we play some chess? I want to play you just for fun for once.”
She nods eagerly and hurries over to the tv and turns it off before fetching the nearest chess set and placing it on the coffee table after pulling it closer to them. Then she unceremoniously crawls back into his embrace, but even the idea of protesting against having to play from the wrong side does not enter his mind. Instead, he insists on doing it.
The coming months more or less all look the same. He stays in bed with her in the morning, the itching in his legs slowly but surely dissipating. By the end of the first month, he even manages to sleep a little longer than usual and shortens the time he has to wait for her to wake up. If the weather permits, he goes on a short run while she prepares for the day and makes them breakfast. They then spend the day lazing about the house, furthering his education on American entertainment, reading books, or playing chess. A light lunch prepared by either of them the only guaranteed break and sometimes a shared walk in the afternoon or a visit from one of her friends, before he – being the more skilled cook of them – makes them dinner. They have sex most nights, but that initial urgency, born from the fear of never being together again, has diminished and they both find themselves not minding the nights when they either do not have the energy or the inclination. It feels reassuring, somehow, that they are comfortable enough with each other to be so honest and not be met with any condemnation or even more than momentarily disappointment, soon transferred into understanding when they beg off for the night. Simply sleeping together is more than enough.
What is more, Vasily soon finds himself enjoying time spent watching tv with Beth and the idleness he had been taught was a grave sin and the enemy of any strong people slowly turns into a blessing. It allows him to spend time with Beth he was unable to spend with his son and former wife. To get to know her better than he has ever known anyone and be fully known by her in return, deepening their understanding of and love for each other in the process.
It also reignites his love of chess. For so long it had become a burden without him being aware of it. Something he had to do because his country demanded it of him rather than something he wanted to do for the beauty of it or his own betterment. Being able to lay in bed and play Beth while both of their minds are still cloudy from lovemaking is the best kind of chess he has ever played.
While waiting for the specially granted citizenship he has been promised so he can play chess outside their home, he is happy to only be a support to her. When she has to travel to Madrid for her first international tournament since his defection he goes with her even if he is still unable to take part, happy to sit in the audience and watch her plough through opponent after opponent, help her analyse the game the one time she has to adjourn, and make sure she gets a good balance of preparations and sleep. The press is all over them, eager to get interviews now that they have appeared in public together for the first time, but they only grant the one, to Beth’s good friend Mr Townes, who is fast becoming a good friend of his too. Him and that indomitable Jolene, who had threatened to exact terrible revenge on him should he ever hurt Beth.
A few months into the next year he is finally granted US citizenship and they celebrate it with an impromptu wedding at city hall with only a handful of witnesses and goes to the fanciest restaurant in town afterwards to celebrate. When they go on their honeymoon about a month later to a five-star hotel a little bit outside the small city of Imperia in the north of Italy he does not mind at all when his darling wife insists that they bring nothing chess related and only enjoy each other and the beach holiday.
They spend those days lying under huge beach umbrellas down by the water or on the deck on the backside of the hotel facing the sea, taking two or three hours every night to get through their three-course meal, or taking the hotel’s bus into Imperia in the morning or afternoon and exploring the city by slowly walking along the streets and admiring the Italian architecture. Not once do they do things according to someone else’ pace or wishes. It is them and them alone.
They also discover a very enjoyable way of spending the whole day in bed. With room service available neither of them has to leave to prepare food or do the dishes, only a hastily thrown on bathrobe for the trek to the door and back is necessary. But even before lunchtime he comes to the realisation that while he has learned to enjoy the art of idleness, he needs to start running a bit more again since his stamina has started to suffer. And he promises himself, while watching Beth’s eyes slowly close while her red locks lie spread out on his shoulder and chest, that they will return a year later and by then he will be able to push her to exhaustion without falling asleep right next to her for a short nap.