A Queen’s Gambit AU || One-shot || NSFW
1967. The lights in Vegas never went out. Neither did the monsters.
The ballroom stank of nerves, whiskey, and ambition. Every table was a shrine to competition: men hunched in tweed and corduroy, fingers twitching, eyes locked on pawns like they were detonators. Above them, chandeliers trembled from the hum of the casino below. Beth Harmon stood at the edge of the room, untouched by it all, a cigarette tucked behind one ear and a bourbon cradled in her hand like a secret.
She was wearing black—sleek dress, high neck, slit up one thigh like a whispered dare. Her eyes scanned the room, bored and precise. She wasn’t here to hunt. Not yet.
"Beth Harmon," a voice drawled behind her, low and melodic, soaked in cocky Southern sleaze.
He was leaning against a marble pillar, thumbs hooked in his belt loops like he owned the oxygen. Black jeans, leather duster, half-buttoned shirt showing a collarbone sharp enough to cut someone. Dark eyes, too intelligent. Blond hair, just slightly too long. The smirk—full Spike, full danger.
“Benny Watts,” she said coolly.
He pushed off the pillar and crossed the carpet in slow, arrogant steps. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said. “I figured you’d sworn off live competition. Too many amateurs bleeding all over the board.”
His hand extended, the gesture casual. Too casual.
It was a handshake like a trap snapping shut.
Hers—radiant with the pulse of Slayer energy, subtle but unmistakable.
Something unspoken passed between them, ancient and hungry. Slayer. Vampire. Predators meeting in the wrong room.
He held her hand just a second too long. Then grinned. “Well,” he said, “this just got interesting.”
Midnight. Hotel rooftop. Windy and warm. She wasn’t on patrol, but she brought the stake anyway.
Beth didn’t like being watched, but she could feel his eyes on her even before she slipped out the fire door. She perched on the edge of the roof, cigarette lit, bourbon in hand. Las Vegas sprawled beneath her, neon bleeding into the sky like a dying god.
“You know I could’ve followed you without you noticing,” Benny said from behind her.
She didn’t flinch. “But you wanted me to notice.”
He emerged from the shadows like smoke—silent, deliberate, amused. The city lights threw gold across his face, making his eyes look amber, almost warm. Almost.
Beth didn’t look at him. “What the hell are you doing here, Watts?”
“I like games,” he said. “Always have. Chess. Cat and mouse. Who’s hiding what. I heard the Slayer was on the circuit. I had to see for myself.”
Beth flicked ash over the edge of the building. “You should’ve stayed underground.”
He stepped beside her, too close. “And miss this? You’re prettier than the rumors said.”
She turned slowly. “Flatter me again and I’ll stake you.”
He grinned. “That’s the thing about you, Beth. Everything you say sounds like foreplay.”
She moved fast—quicker than he could blink, stake out, pressed flat against his chest. Right above the heart.
His smile didn’t fade. “You won’t kill me.”
Beth’s voice dropped. “You sure?”
He leaned in, voice velvet. “If you really wanted me dead, Slayer, I’d be dust already.”
They stood like that, wind curling around them, her heart hammering against the stillness in him.
Finally, she withdrew the stake—but slowly. Her fingers brushed his chest, deliberately.
Back in her suite. Two a.m. The city sleeps but the monsters don’t.
She sat on the bed in her slip, no makeup, hair wild. The room was dimly lit—one bedside lamp on, her travel chessboard cracked open on the table like an autopsy. Her hand hovered over a rook. Something was wrong. Off. She kept moving the same piece.
Three knocks at the door.
She stood, silent. Didn’t grab a stake this time.
When she opened it, Benny was there. Shirtless, bruised, and bleeding from his lip.
“Ran into one of yours,” he said. “Junior Slayer, maybe? Blonde. Angry. Shouted something about betrayal.”
Beth stepped aside wordlessly, letting him in.
He moved with a limp—barely. Still cocky. Still watching her like he knew all her tells.
She poured bourbon. Handed him a glass.
“You heal fast,” she said.
“Comes with the territory,” he muttered, taking a sip.
He sat on the bed like he belonged there. She didn’t stop him.
“You don’t smell like other vampires,” she said.
“You smell like cigarettes and blood and leather. But underneath it… something else.”
He grinned, eyes flicking to her bare thighs. “You’ve been smelling me?”
Beth stepped between his knees, her glass in one hand. “You’re not like the others,” she said.
“No,” he agreed. “Neither are you.”
She straddled him in one motion, bourbon in one hand, other hand curled in his hair. Their mouths met before the glass hit the floor.
(Skip this part if you're not into explicit content.)
Beth kissed like she played chess—aggressively, strategically, with a sharpness that made men bleed before they noticed the wound. Benny kissed like a war—reckless, dirty, drawn out to the last possible breath.
His mouth was hot despite the chill of his skin, and she found herself grinding against him as he growled into her throat, hands sliding under the hem of her slip.
“You’re a fucking drug,” he muttered, dragging his teeth across her collarbone.
She pulled his belt open with practiced fingers. “And you’re the bad decision I keep making.”
Clothes came off in bursts of teeth and laughter and curses. Her thighs wrapped around his waist, her nails dragging down his back. He flipped her—roughly, effortlessly—pinning her wrists to the headboard.
Beth arched into him, gasping, biting her own lip until it bled.
“You’re not gonna kill me after this, are you?” he asked, mouth at her throat.
“Depends how good you are.”
Then he fucked her like a man trying to make her forget every rule she’d ever followed.
The room is wrecked. Sheets kicked off. Clothes scattered. Chess pieces on the floor like fallen soldiers.
Lying beside her, one arm lazily draped over his face. The sun didn’t touch him—curtains drawn. Smart.
He looked… peaceful. Too human. Too him.
She slid out of bed, pulled on his shirt, and padded to the window.
Her reflection didn’t show her a vampire.
Just a girl with too many secrets.
“You leaving?” he asked groggily from the bed.
She glanced over. “I should.”
He sat up, tousled and shirtless, that damn smirk crawling back to his face. “Or you could stay. Vegas is full of things to kill.”
“I don’t patrol with vampires.”
She looked at him long and hard.
“Maybe just one game,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Chess or sex?”
Beth smirked. “Both. But only if I win.”
They played until the sun burned over the desert, chasing checkmates and something like love in the shadows of monsters.