Queen's Gambit: Food, Sex and Murder
Titel: Food, Sex and Murder
Challenge: Food, Sex and Murder (von der_jemand)
Fandom: The Queen’s Gambit
Sprache: Englisch
Wörter: 850
Kommentar: Äh, das sollte ein Drabble werden…
„Oh, and about sex? You can forget about it.”
Food, Sex and Murder
„Oh, and about sex? You can forget about it.”
There are times when she wants to murder Benny.
They work well as roommates, generally speaking. Surprisingly well, actually, considering that they’re both self-centered professional chess players who don’t have a lot of experience with living with other people.
Benny’s apartment is as uninviting as it is bare, and it doesn’t afford a lot of privacy, but they make it work. Their days revolve around chess, and after a while, they fall into a rhythm where everything else ceases to matter.
Still, every once in a while somebody drinks up all the milk and Beth wants to throw something.
But then of course, it’s never really about the milk.
It’s about the way Benny’s long fingers look when they’re picking up a piece. It’s about the way the bracelet gleams on his arm, the way his necklaces fall forward when he leans over the board, the way he runs his hand through his ridiculous hair. Her eyes catch on his signet ring every time he makes a move and every time she glances up she can see the skin of his chest through the gap in his unbuttoned shirt and all she wants to do is scream.
She sets down her bishop harder than necessary and hears his surprised exhale through his nose. The game is slow and torturous, even though she had a good start. By all means she should have wiped him off the board by now, and she would have, if she could just focus.
If he could just button up his shirt all the way like a normal human being.
She bites her lip in frustration, all the way inside so it’s not so obvious. She’s done with this game. She wants to wipe the pieces off the board, she wants to lean over the table and grab him by the collar and finally press her lips to his like she’s been wanting to do since Ohio, maybe since Las Vegas.
But she doesn’t. Instead, she plays rook to E4.
When Benny makes his next move, she frowns. She’ll admit she’s not at the top of her game tonight (if only to herself), but she can see at least one alternative move with better prospects he could have made.
When she looks up, their eyes meet briefly. In the distant light of the kitchen lamp, his are nothing but dark pools. As she leans forward over the board, she catches him glancing downward for just a moment.
So maybe she’s wearing a low-cut blouse tonight. Benny Watts is surely the last person on the planet who’s allowed to complain about that.
She reaches out and picks up her queen. Rolls the piece between her fingers for a moment, feels the wood beneath her fingertips. Feels Benny’s eyes on her. They play touch-move, just like in the tournaments, and it’s obvious that this is just a delay.
When she finally sets it down, close to the enemy lines, her hand briefly brushes his arm.
It’s like a game within a game. On the board, the pieces keep moving, dancing around each other, a swirl of black and white. But the real game is in the way Beth twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, the way she runs a hand over her neck to seemingly massage away the tension, in knocking their knees together underneath the small table.
They don’t look at each other again, and nobody speaks. But in the quiet of the apartment, she can hear Benny’s breath pick up.
When he picks up a pawn and she can finally see his fingers tremble, a thrill runs through her. Fuck, she wants him. She’s never wanted anything this much in her life, not even alcohol. (Except chess, but that’s a given, for both of them.)
Slowly, she’s pulling the net around his king tighter. He’s aware of the threat, but seems to be helpless to do anything about it. She’s directed her attention back onto the board, and under her attack his defenses crumble. It’s almost too easy.
Maybe he wants her to.
When he finally moves to topple his king, she reaches out and takes his hand. It’s not warm in the apartment, but the inside of his palm is damp and she can feel the almost imperceptible tremble.
He doesn’t pull his hand back. “Beth”, he says, and it sounds like a plead. She doesn’t know if he pleads with her to continue or to stop.
“I win”, she says gently. Her other hand knocks his king over on his side.
When he sighs out, it sounds like a surrender. “You win”, he admits.
For a moment, neither of them moves. Then they’re scrambling to get to each other. Benny puts a hand against her neck to pull her close. Beth slips a hand into his shirt and presses it against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat right underneath his skin. Their lips meet like they’re both drowning.
When the board crashes to the floor and spills pieces all over the tiles, they barely notice.
Challenge: Food, Sex and Murder (von der_jemand)
Fandom: The Queen’s Gambit
Sprache: Englisch
Wörter: 850
Kommentar: Äh, das sollte ein Drabble werden…
„Oh, and about sex? You can forget about it.”
Food, Sex and Murder
„Oh, and about sex? You can forget about it.”
There are times when she wants to murder Benny.
They work well as roommates, generally speaking. Surprisingly well, actually, considering that they’re both self-centered professional chess players who don’t have a lot of experience with living with other people.
Benny’s apartment is as uninviting as it is bare, and it doesn’t afford a lot of privacy, but they make it work. Their days revolve around chess, and after a while, they fall into a rhythm where everything else ceases to matter.
Still, every once in a while somebody drinks up all the milk and Beth wants to throw something.
But then of course, it’s never really about the milk.
It’s about the way Benny’s long fingers look when they’re picking up a piece. It’s about the way the bracelet gleams on his arm, the way his necklaces fall forward when he leans over the board, the way he runs his hand through his ridiculous hair. Her eyes catch on his signet ring every time he makes a move and every time she glances up she can see the skin of his chest through the gap in his unbuttoned shirt and all she wants to do is scream.
She sets down her bishop harder than necessary and hears his surprised exhale through his nose. The game is slow and torturous, even though she had a good start. By all means she should have wiped him off the board by now, and she would have, if she could just focus.
If he could just button up his shirt all the way like a normal human being.
She bites her lip in frustration, all the way inside so it’s not so obvious. She’s done with this game. She wants to wipe the pieces off the board, she wants to lean over the table and grab him by the collar and finally press her lips to his like she’s been wanting to do since Ohio, maybe since Las Vegas.
But she doesn’t. Instead, she plays rook to E4.
When Benny makes his next move, she frowns. She’ll admit she’s not at the top of her game tonight (if only to herself), but she can see at least one alternative move with better prospects he could have made.
When she looks up, their eyes meet briefly. In the distant light of the kitchen lamp, his are nothing but dark pools. As she leans forward over the board, she catches him glancing downward for just a moment.
So maybe she’s wearing a low-cut blouse tonight. Benny Watts is surely the last person on the planet who’s allowed to complain about that.
She reaches out and picks up her queen. Rolls the piece between her fingers for a moment, feels the wood beneath her fingertips. Feels Benny’s eyes on her. They play touch-move, just like in the tournaments, and it’s obvious that this is just a delay.
When she finally sets it down, close to the enemy lines, her hand briefly brushes his arm.
It’s like a game within a game. On the board, the pieces keep moving, dancing around each other, a swirl of black and white. But the real game is in the way Beth twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, the way she runs a hand over her neck to seemingly massage away the tension, in knocking their knees together underneath the small table.
They don’t look at each other again, and nobody speaks. But in the quiet of the apartment, she can hear Benny’s breath pick up.
When he picks up a pawn and she can finally see his fingers tremble, a thrill runs through her. Fuck, she wants him. She’s never wanted anything this much in her life, not even alcohol. (Except chess, but that’s a given, for both of them.)
Slowly, she’s pulling the net around his king tighter. He’s aware of the threat, but seems to be helpless to do anything about it. She’s directed her attention back onto the board, and under her attack his defenses crumble. It’s almost too easy.
Maybe he wants her to.
When he finally moves to topple his king, she reaches out and takes his hand. It’s not warm in the apartment, but the inside of his palm is damp and she can feel the almost imperceptible tremble.
He doesn’t pull his hand back. “Beth”, he says, and it sounds like a plead. She doesn’t know if he pleads with her to continue or to stop.
“I win”, she says gently. Her other hand knocks his king over on his side.
When he sighs out, it sounds like a surrender. “You win”, he admits.
For a moment, neither of them moves. Then they’re scrambling to get to each other. Benny puts a hand against her neck to pull her close. Beth slips a hand into his shirt and presses it against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat right underneath his skin. Their lips meet like they’re both drowning.
When the board crashes to the floor and spills pieces all over the tiles, they barely notice.