Let it be True
A fanfiction telling of what happened after those fateful words were spoken in episode 3 of BBC’s 2015 production of Poldark. After the scene faded to black, I was left feeling tormented. The mutual attraction between Ross and Demelza in this episode steams up the screen.
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters mentioned in this story, I am only borrowing them for my own enjoyment, and hopefully yours. There are a few direct quotes from Episode 3…I don’t lay claim to those either. All the others words you are about to read, however, are my own, and should not be copied in any manner.
Explicit sexual content warning. Mature readers only, please.
“Do you know what people say of us?”
He was standing so close.
Close enough that each time Demelza took a deep, shuddering breath, she inhaled the intoxicating scent of him.
He smelled of the earth, and of good, honest hard work. Most men of Ross’s class were pale and lazy from sitting in dark gambling rooms all day instead of spending their hours toiling in the sun, but not he.
Oh, not he.
A tiny shiver snaked its way down her spine as she pictured him as he often worked, with his shirt off, his tan, well-muscled body glistening in the sunlight.
She couldn’t help but imagine that body straining over her, his powerful arms taut with exertion as he thrust his cock in and out of her cunny.
By some miracle she was still a maid, but though she had no carnal experience, that didn’t mean she lacked knowledge. She’d witnessed many a swiving in dark alleyways…women lifting their skirts for a few coppers. It was vulgar and crude, but it wouldn’t be that way with Ross. She loved him.
How could she not?
From the moment he’d saved her beloved dog Garrick, he’d become a hero in her eyes, but he’d done so much more than that. He’d saved her as well.
He’d taken her in, clothed her in what to her seemed great finery, and given her a job as his servant. The worst day as his kitchen maid was far better than the best day of her wretched old life, and that was the truth of it. In further demonstration of his boundless generosity, he’d even let her keep Garrick.
Food, clothing, shelter…most fancy folk took such for granted, as they had more than they could ever want or need, but to Demelza, when Ross Poldark had given her these things, he’d also given her the chance at a real life.
At true happiness.
No matter that after two wonderful years under his employment, the best years of her life, the only way she could ever truly be happy now was to be with him.
She would never forget the way he’d stood up to her drunkard of a father instead of allowing her to be taken away. Back to filth. Back to misery. No man—of the upper class or any other—had ever been kinder.
He had her heart completely, and she’d give him her body as well if he asked for it, even her very soul, without a moment’s hesitation.
His warm breath caressed her neck, like the whisper of a kiss, and whether consciously or unconsciously, she tilted her head to give him better access.
“If we behave like this,” he murmured softly, his lips scant inches from her fevered skin, “it will be true.”
That deep, rich voice made her pulse race. It heated her blood. It made her want things she had no business wanting.
Though he be unaware, for two long years she had longed for him in secret, dreaming of him each time she lay her head upon her pillow. She could never hope to have him, not even for just one night, but that didn’t stop her heart from loving, or her body from yearning. It was why she’d put on the fancy gown and pretended to be mistress of Nampara.
She knew it was wrong to imagine herself as his wife, but she’d done it anyway. Though he was far above her station, in some secret place inside her heart he belonged to her, just as she did to him.
It was why the words slipped out before she could stop them.
“Then let it be true.”
Demelza waited there with breath suspended, expecting his rejection. Instead she felt his hands slip inside the open garment, his calloused fingers stroking her bare flesh. Time seemed to stand still, the only sounds in the room their labored breath and the rustling of material as the dress fell to the floor.
She now stood as naked as the day she’d been born. No man had ever seen her so, but she didn’t feel at all nervous. With Ross, she had no reason to be afeared. She trusted him completely. Loved him with her entire being. She’d dreamt of this moment for so very long.
Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips lightly brushed the skin of her neck. The caress was barely a caress at all, but it somehow intensified her hunger for him to alarming proportions.
Feeling weak-kneed, she leaned back into the shelter of his sturdy frame, her head lolling to the side as his mouth slid higher, his teeth nipping ever so gently.
His heavy breathing rasped loud against her ear, and she felt a tiny thrill pass through her at the sound of it, for she couldn’t help wondering if it meant he was as equally affected by her as she was by him. Exhilarated at the thought, she couldn’t stop her body from trembling.
He turned her in his arms, his face now so very near, and for a moment she saw the flame of passion in his eyes as he closed the last little bit of space between them. She’d never thought the day would come when that look would be directed at her, just a poor, simple country girl of low birth, and she could scarcely believe she wasn’t dreaming.
He captured her mouth with his, and her heart seemed to soar right out of her chest. Her hand flew up to his shoulder, as she longed to touch his dark, gently waving hair, but she hastily lowered it again, fearing he wouldn’t allow it. He was her master, and she his servant, and she would only dare do what he gave her leave.
His kiss grew more fervent as he guided her backward onto his bed. She kept her arms down by her sides, her hands holding fast the bedclothes, fighting against the urge to cling to him.
A new compulsion came over her then…an overwhelming desire to tear off his shirt and breeches and run her hands along the contours of the finely built body underneath. She knew what he looked like naked…she’d peeked at him swimming in the sea on more than one occasion, but that didn’t stop her from wishing to feel his skin against her skin. His body felt so solid over hers, the clothed cock nestled between her spread legs hard and unyielding.
A hand slid up the inside of her thigh, stroking her skin and parting her legs even further. The weight of his body lessened as he braced himself up on one arm, but before she could mourn the loss, his fingers found her warm, wet woman’s place, caressing it with the lightest of touches.
“Are you a virgin, Demelza?” His eyes were nearly black as he asked the question, his voice soft and rough with want.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered back, trying not to gasp when a single fingertip circled the hard little bud that throbbed for his attention.
His dark brow furrowed. “I do not wish to cause you any discomfort.”
“I be strong, sir. I can ‘andle it.” In truth she was a tiny bit nervous, mostly of the unknown, but especially of not pleasing him. She was more afraid of that than any agony he might inflict. Lifting her chin, she met his penetrating gaze. “I ain’t afeared o’ the pain.”
A kind smile spread across his full lips, the same smile he always gave to encourage her, to thank her for serving him well. “Nevertheless, I shall endeavor to make this as easy for you as possible.”
They weren’t just words. She knew he really meant them, and in that she took consolation. He had been kind to her in ways that before meeting him, she’d never even fathomed.
His dark head dipped to her bare breasts, and she inhaled sharply as his mouth closed over one nipple and began to suck, the sensation strange yet also highly arousing.
Such was only done by suckling babes, or so she had thought, but her body began to respond, the pleasure within her building. It appeared she didn’t have quite as much knowledge of carnal ways as she had imagined.
Giving her now engorged nipple one last leisurely lick, Ross released it and moved on to the other. She felt so empty and hollow, her body desiring his in a way it never had before. Clamping her legs together, she fisted the bedsheets tighter to keep from burying her fingers in his hair. By the time he was through she felt weak and nearly frantic with want, for as if by some dark bewitchment, she’d felt each tug of his lips in her aching cunny. She needed him inside her. Never had her yearning been more powerful.
His hand slipped between her legs, cupping her swollen flesh and grinding it gently against his palm. He stared at her through heavy-lidded eyes, his dark gaze searching.
The intimacy of the moment became too much for her to bear, and Demelza turned her head.
“No.” His voice was seductive, yet stern, the voice of both master and lover. “Keep your face to me. Don’t look away.”
She would lose her composure if she looked into those eyes, would risk saying things she mustn’t ever say. Such as how her heart ached whenever he was gone from her sight, even for just a little while. Or how very much she loved him. More than life itself.
More than anything.
But as his servant it was her duty to submit herself under his will, and so steeling herself with a deep, calming breath, she obediently did as he’d requested. Her reward was the fingertips of one hand stroking gently between her thighs, while the other caressed the side of her face. Never had she imagined such closeness. She trembled at the intimacy.
“Do not hide your response from me, Demelza.” His tone was as tender as his touch on her body. “I need to see it, as it will better help me gauge when you are ready to take me inside you.”
She was ready now. Had been ready forever, it seemed. “Yes, sir…I’ll try not to, sir.”
He studied her for a moment before suddenly seizing her mouth in a hard kiss, a kiss so full of passion it had her arching up off the bed.
“Yes,” he murmured against her lips. “That’s it…” His fingers moved faster over her, and she whimpered softly, giving her body up to the pleasure, this time holding nothing back.
Ross’s answering groan in her mouth was followed by husky praise. “That’s the way.”
Jerking to a standing position, he yanked his shirt up over his head. His chest was even more beautiful up close than it had been all those times she’d watched him from a distance. It made her own tighten painfully.
His eyes roamed over her bare body, and she drew her legs together, feeling her cheeks heat in maidenly shame. A slow shake of his head told her without words what it was he wanted. Forcing herself to relax back onto the mattress, she let her legs fall open again and let him look his fill. How could she deny him anything he asked? What had he given her, but only everything good that existed in her world?
He bent over her, his fingers finding the hard little button of flesh that ached, caressing it in slow circles. She’d pleasured herself many times before, always while picturing his handsome face, but never had she dreamed he would one day be standing over her, his eyes studying the depth of her response to him as he coaxed her toward release.
His nostrils flared, and then he was grasping her hips, his head lowering between her legs. He kissed her there, his tongue slipping between the folds of her cunny.
Her hands found their way to his head, her fingers sinking into the silk of his hair before she knew what she was about, but she quickly snatched them away again. The mournful sob that escaped her had him raising his handsome face, his brown eyes filled with concern.
“What is it?”
Tears filling her own eyes, she swallowed back another sob, but she couldn’t hold back the words that poured out of her mouth. “Please, sir, iffen’ it wouldn’t be too wrong o’ me to ask, sir…might I be permitted to…touch ye?”
His jaw worked. “Nothing will be denied you this night,” he promised fiercely. “You are free to explore at will.” Taking her hand in his, he brought it up to his stubbled cheek, his eyes drifting shut at the contact.
Slowly, gently, she ran her hands along the contours of his face, her breath hitching as she threaded them through his hair and brushed the wild, windblown curls back from his forehead. As if she’d lit a match to him, he buried his head between her thighs once more, leaving no inch of her slick folds untouched by his ardor.
His lips closed over her distended nub, and he sucked it into his mouth, drawing on it as he had her nipples. Her fingers tightening in his hair, Demelza moaned at the delicious pleasure. He released the captured bit of flesh, but it was only a reprieve for a moment, for he commenced to torturing her with teasing little licks, raking the end of his pointed tongue back and forth until she feared she might go mad.
“I think I be ready, now, sir,” she whimpered. “Please—I can’t bear it no longer!”
His expression was sinfully wicked as he stared up at her, his warm breath a teasing caress. “I disagree,” he countered huskily, bending to kiss her cunny as sweetly as he had her lips. “I think you can bear a bit more.”
His hands lifted her lower body off the bed, raising her up to his mouth. With a low, guttural sound in the back of his throat, he feasted on her quivering flesh, alternating between gentle licks of his tongue and firm suction. Whimpering in pleasure, she wrapped her trembling legs about him, and with one hand in his hair and the other clutching his arm, she held on for dear life as he pushed her higher and higher toward the pinnacle.
“Have mercy, Mr. Ross!” Dragging her tongue across her feverish lips, she propped herself up on her elbows, intent on convincing him to cease this sensual torture, but instead she ended up watching him, enraptured by the sight of his dark head buried between her pale thighs. Arousal spiked as he opened his eyes to look at her, all while never ceasing his attentions.
The air sawed in and out of her lungs, her chest rising and falling rapidly with every ragged breath. His tongue worked faster, parting the swollen lips of her femininity and swirling around that tender little spot.
It was then her lungs seemed not to work at all, for she stopped breathing when the ripples of bliss began, the muscles in her body tensing up as she at last found her release.
She whimpered as Ross kept his mouth on her and tried to pull away, but he held her fast with his work-roughened hands, an order of “Keep still,” said against her well-attended flesh.
Moaning, she obeyed, her body going limp as his tongue laved her gently, coaxing her through the last little tremors.
Turning his head, he ground his whiskered cheek against the wet folds of her cunny, making her gasp out a curse of “Judas!”
At his low chuckle, her temper got the better of her. “I don’t see as how it’s too kindly o’ you to laugh, sir. You bein’ the one doin’ the torture!”
He smirked at her, that endearing little smile of his that brought out the laugh lines around his eyes.
But her annoyance faded away when he stood and removed his breeches, the bed creaking beneath his weight as he lowered himself atop her. She immediately gave in to her long-repressed desire to touch him, her fingers threading through the dark hair that covered his broad chest.
“Are you ready to continue?” His voice had grown raspy and soft, the sound pure enticement.
“When you are in this bed, there is no need to be so formal. You may address me simply as Ross.”
He spoke as if she would be here again, as if this wasn’t to be a one time occurrence. Joy flooded her soul at the thought, and she couldn’t help but beam up at him.
“Yes, sir. I mean…Ross, sir.”
Once she had begun, she found she couldn’t stop saying it. She whispered it when the head of his cock nudged her entrance, moaned it when he slowly eased inside her passage.
“Hold tight to me,” he urged, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss, and she happily did as he bade. The first hard thrust of his cock hurt far worse than she had imagined, the sharp stinging pain bringing tears to her eyes as he tore through her maiden barrier. But the whispered words and tender kisses that followed soothed the throbbing ache.
He held her fast in his arms, his coarse chest hair deliciously abrading her tender nipples, his face so near to hers that they shared the same breath. It was such a tender moment she could almost forget all else, even the burning stretch of his invasion.
They lay so for an immeasurable amount of time, locked in intimate embrace.
“Demelza,” Ross finally murmured, his lips brushing lightly against hers. “Has the pain lessened?”
She smiled up at him from the sheer elation of being held in his arms, and he took that smile for a yes, pulling out slowly and driving back in, reaching a deeper depth than before. She whimpered, her discomfort returning, but then he put his lips to her neck and nuzzled a sensitive spot just behind her ear, suspending her on the edge of she knew not what.
He plunged again, harder and at a slightly different angle, and she bucked beneath him, crying out, the sensations in her tender sheath melding and creating a strange new mix of pain and pleasure.
“Am I hurting you? Answer me truthfully, Demelza.”
She bit her lip, moaning softly as his thrusts gentled to a leisurely pace. “Not too terribly much, sir—Ross,” she corrected.
Her voice sounded so peculiar…as peculiar as the feeling of holding his body inside her cunny. He moved within her again, his flesh dragging along her inner walls, and her desire flickered to life once more, the flame of it fanned by exquisite friction.
Closing her eyes, she gave her body over to the sensation of flesh against bare flesh, to the rhythmic motion of his cock and the resulting pressure building at the place of their joining.
His breathing grew labored, his movements more urgent. His mouth sought hers, the crush of his lips and the bold claim of his tongue turning her mind to mush. A calloused hand grasped her thigh, holding her still for his thrusts as he sped up the pace.
Slipping her arms around his middle and wrapping her legs around his hips, she held him as tightly to her as possible. The sounds coming out of her now weren’t at all ladylike, not that she’d ever been a fine lady, but Ross seemed to like hearing them, for he groaned louder, lunged harder, until his hand no longer held her still, but lifted her up, the new tilt of her hips changing the depth of his thrusts. She bucked beneath him, seeking still more, desiring everything he had to offer her.
His other hand slipped between them, his fingers sliding along her swollen folds until he found her engorged nub. He plucked it like one would the strings of an instrument, and the pleasure built to unbearable proportions, making her scream out his name with abandon.
Her sheath contracted around him as she peaked, bearing down around his hard flesh as if it could keep him forever inside her. His release soon followed, his body going rigid, the cords of muscle in his arms taut with strain. His deep, guttural groan was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. Closing her eyes, she committed it and the powerful emotion she felt at hearing it to her memory.
Collapsing atop her, Ross rolled onto his side and tucked her body in close beside him. Their limbs tangled together in intimate embrace, and Demelza couldn’t help but smile as she listened to the rhythm of his breathing.
“Good night, Ross,” she whispered in the dark. His arms tightening around her in response, he kissed the nape of her neck, and the next whisper was heard only in her mind and heart.
I love ye.
She could never pledge her love aloud, but for now, just being here with him, in his arms and in his bed, was enough.
Never had she been so blissfully happy.
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