Chapter Text
How was it possible he had just done that? Ross Poldark was sitting on his bed, loosening his shirt buttons at the top, removing his boots, furious with himself. Yes, it had been a long day, yes he was angry as all hell about Jim and totally full of loathing for the classism of this world and the behavior of the upperclass that was his by birthright and not at all due to any capability or efforts of his. But none of that was an excuse for the way he treated Demelza- if anything, it should have guaranteed he would treat her more compassionately, with more consideration. But when he saw her,in that blue dress, her fiery red and gold curls caught up just so, the light of the candles and the fire… And then she was so upset and he felt so terrible and wanted nothing but to make her smile again, stop crying.
He didn’t know why exactly, but her being that upset had upset him to his core. The look in her eyes, the tears on her face, combined with his own upset- the turmoil of the day, the fear for his mine’s future, his anger over Elizabeth and Frances… the only thing for it was to pull her to him hold her and feel her mouth on his, her breath against his face. He didn’t know if he would ever understand why, but in that moment, instinctively he knew that the only possible way to help was to take her in his arms and pull her to him, trying to comfort them both.
He was a cad. He was worse than a cad, he was everything people said of him- an entitled, self-important brat who would take his pleasure where he could, not caring for norm or convention or the girl’s honor. He should simply stick to whores at the Inn from now on, rather than taking advantage of the girl’s’ innocence and kindness? This girl… no, he shouldn’t think of her as a girl, she was a woman- a fully-formed, well-proportioned, beautiful and kind-hearted woman… this woman had come to him the victim of terrible treatment and abuse, she knew nothing of kindness or gentility or men. How could he take advantage of her like that? How was he going to face her tomorrow?
More importantly, how was he going to forget how she had looked in that dress? Or how her lips had felt on his, her body in his arms? All this time he had been pining for Elizabeth, but being near her had never given him the sense of comfort or belonging he had felt, if only fleetingly, when he pulled Demelza to him tonight. As he thought of it, he felt himself getting uncomfortably hard in his breeches, his breath hitched slightly.Her lips had been so soft, she had been so willing… He had to forget, he couldn’t…
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The door creaked as it was pushed open, hesitantly. There, in the doorway was Demelza, with just enough moonlight streaming in behind her that she appeared to be surrounded by a golden halo. When had she become so beautiful? Truthfully, he was trying to determine at what point she had moved past the gawky, tomboyish qualities she possessed when he first brought her back with him, into this stunning woman standing before him? This woman who he found himself spending so much of his time with, having her sit and eat dinner with him, discussing issues with his family and the mine and magistrates… when had he come to rely on her company and comforts so much?
“What is it?” He asked in a much rougher voice than he had meant. She paused in the door, looking hesitant, unsure. Then, she took a breath, squared her shoulders and moved towards him, crossing the threshold, into the room, towards him, and he had to admit that it was making his heartbeat pick up slightly as she moved closer. But, why was she coming in? He had apologized for yelling at her, he had simply lost his temper. What could he still do to make this any better? She paused in front of him, speaking so softly.
“The dress. It fastens down the back.”
He gulped, slowly standing, moving towards her back what was she saying? Was she asking for help to get out of the gown, or inviting him to undress her- two very different things, even if they both came to a similar end. She had seemed to enjoy kissing him, just moments before; in fact, she had been upset when he pulled away, asking why it mattered why he rescued her from her father. He didn’t know what she was looking for- what she was offering, but he moved to unlace the top few hooks of her dress, in case she did, in fact, need help to change and go to bed-- after all, he had told her to get out of that dress immediately.
But then… as he began to unlace the dress, he heard her breathe in sharply, she tilted her neck and ever so slightly leaned into him. He breathed in the scent of her soap and the meadow she had clearly spent time in today- flowers, grass, herbs… and then something else- yeast? Bread? Fire? She smelt like hearth, like home, like the soul of Nampara. He took a half step in, moving to unlace her bodice further, much further than was strictly necessary for her to simply get out of the gown, change and go to bed.
“Do you know what people say of us?” She was thankfully still turned away from him, he didn’t know how he would find the courage to speak if he had to look into her eyes.
“Yes.” She whispered back, her alabaster back showing, she moved slightly further back, curving into his solid body, crooking her neck more, as though willing him to nuzzle against it- tempting him to run his lips, his teeth, his tongue all along the porcelain skin she was taunting him with. In his breathiest voice, almost a growl, he whispered against her,
“If we behave like this, it will be true.” The feel of his breath against the hairs of her neck made them stand on end, tiny goosebumps popping up on her skin. He knew that he only had so much restraint, could only be so much of a gentleman, and her back arching towards him was not helping the matter, nor was the way her hips instinctively pushed towards his. He was experiencing a very uncomfortable hardening of his member and realizing how badly he wanted comfort right now- but not from just anyone. For some reason, this woman in front of him, seemingly submissive and willing, was what he needed, the only thing that would serve to actually slake his thirst.
“Then let it be true.” She breathed in and out, he pulled her to him, his hands pulling her in, moving to the front of her bodice, upwards in search of her small but perfectly ripe and full breasts. She sank into his embrace, reveling at his touch, the whisper of his breath and lips on her neck, silently begging him. As he reached her ear she could take it no more and turned to face him, wanting to feel his lips on hers, his mouth on hers, wanting to experience the sensation of his tongue battling hers. As he kissed her, her dress fell, pooling at her feet and she turned ever so slightly towards the bed. As she did that his desires began to completely overwhelm his chivalrous side, he bent her backwards until she sank onto the bed and he followed her down, wanting to kiss every inch of her creamy skin, so beautifully bare to him and his eyes, his mouth, his hands…
Ross Poldark certainly was no virgin- he hadn’t been one in at least a decade. But every woman he had ever become intimately acquainted with had been, well, at least somewhat experienced. Sometimes it had been an act merely of fun and lust, sometimes it had been a business transaction, as with the women at the Inn in town. But there was Demelza, there was no fear in her maidenly eyes. He paused his amorous attentions, currently focused somewhere in the vicinity of her left breast, and for a moment he was a bit nervous.Had he ever, in his life tried to make love to a woman? Trying to be tender, to be considerate, to give as well as receive pleasure. He had certainly been with women who he had pleasured (or so he believed), but that had only been a tangential concern. He had certainly never been with anyone he was concerned about hurting, and in his memory he seemed to recollect that it was supposed to hurt a woman, her first time.
“Demelza, are you sure? Are you certain you want this?”
“I just… I want to know what it is like, Sir. Please, I need to feel this, right now, with you.” That was the only bit of gentlemanly restraint he believed he could be capable of at this point in time, his cock pulsing against his pants, his hands exploring her every bump and crevice, his need growing stronger by the second, and then she grabbed him- tentatively, but firmly, and it sent fire up his spine.
“I don’t want to hurt you, I hope you understand, but this may…” And as he was trying to explain, trying to prepare her for what was about to happen, he felt her arch her lower back and her hips began bucking towards him, begging for him to enter her- a call that he had no choice but to answer. In one quick motion he grabbed himself and guided it inside of her, pushing against her wall and breaking inside of her. She cried out, he was afraid it was from pain and considered removing himself from her, but before he could make up his mind as to what a gentleman would do, she began to push against him, begging him to start moving against her- rocking her hips and pelvis against him, trying to find ways to take him in deeper as he rode her small, delicate, but almost perfect body.
She was so tight around him, it felt as though she was gripping him, pulling him in closer to her, wanting to feel him deeper and faster and stronger. Although he was hoping to give her some pleasure, it had been quite some time since he had felt anything around his own cock but his own hand- while whoring and carousing had been perfectly fine for him in America, and maybe once or twice since returning home, he had been disappointed by most of those rendezvous, none of them had left him more than vaguely and very temporarily satisfied. There had been no cessation of the hunger or need or a slaking of his thirst for love and affection. And then Demelza was calling him, “Oh, Sir Ross… ‘ee feel right, ‘tis so right!” And before he knew was what happening, he felt himself begin to reach his climax, reach that moment of anxiety,of pain, of bliss- he shuddered, right there on top of her, like a ruddy school boy of no more than 12. He pushed into her a final time as she sighed against him, as she wondered if that was truly the moment she had always been warned of by ministers and womenfolk alike.
He sighed and moved towards his pillow, as though he meant to go to bed after that. She was completely unsure what was appropriate for the moment after a couple joined like that. Should she get up and excuse herself? Or was she meant to lie there until he dismissed her. After a moment or two, she found herself sighing, she rose to collect her dress and leave the room. But he grabbed her, “So anxious to run away from me? Aye, I can’t blame you, I’m afraid I was none too gentle or solicitous of you just there. But pray, allow me a moment and I promise to make it right with you.”
She wasn’t sure what that could possibly entail, but the bed was so comfortable and she had to admit that after the problems of the day, she was feeling a bit tired. And possibly a wee bit sore- between her legs, she felt as though she had been riding a horse a bit longer than normal. She sat back down, tentatively, not sure what she was supposed to do now.
“Come, lie down. There is plenty of room in this bed after all.” She moved her head to the pillows next to him, trying to remember if she had ever felt a mattress or quilt so soft or inviting. She pivoted her body to fit next to his and he turned over on his side, into hers.
“I hope ye don’t hate me… Sir… but I…” She was interrupted from saying anything further by Ross’s mouth on hers, his hands running down the beautiful, soft, ivory skin of torso.
“Demelza, please understand, right now, that nothing I feel about you comes even close to hate.”
“But, Sir…”
“Demelza, I’m lying in my bed, arms about your naked flesh, in a rather compromising way I may add… I hope that you can begin to call me Ross, I believe we’ve moved past the formalities.”
“Yessir… Ross… I’ll try.” He turned towards her, kissing her, forcing her lips to open for his tongue, grazing his teeth against her lips, his arm moving to her breasts, seeking comfort in her warmth, moving his lips to her breasts and nipples, then her navel… reveling in the softness of her skin, the warmth of her body… With a groan he realized he’d never be able to resist her as long as she was lying there so beautiful and delightful and naked. She was right there next to him in his bed, with her fiery mane and enchanting smile, the one that brought sunshine to his darkest moments and reassured him in his most troubling concerns.
Ross Poldark was no beast, he would never stand to have a woman serve as nothing more than a horse’s mare, forced to do the bidding of a breeding stallion. He felt his hands begin to travel much further south of her navel, into the warm and soft folds of this goddess next to him, hearing her heart pick up a beat or two, her breath catch and a slight moan escaped her lips.
Demelza did not know that it would feel like this. She had been told that it would be a small prick, an annoyance, really- no one had told her that there was any chance of her enjoying what it felt like to have his rough hands against her womanhood.
Ross, on the other hand, was almost beside himself. She was so incredibly slick and warm, he didn’t completely understand how she could feel so lovely, so warm and inviting- and enthusiastic, if he wasn’t very much mistaken, from past experience. She leaned into his hand, his fingers- she had never felt anything quite like it- something seemed to be building inside of her and she didn’t understand what it was, but she was eager to feel it. She bucked her hips towards him, she called out his name and she sought and found a pleasure that she had never known was possible.
Afterwards, she rolled onto her side, realizing that he may never touch her like that again- likely wouldn’t touch her like that again. He pulled her to him, cradling her body with his, he kissed the back of her shoulder as he grazed the smoothness of her skin, all along her face and torso. Christ was she incredible to see and to feel! The feel of her delicate and innocent body was making him want more- to possess her entirely and immediately, he began to kiss the back of her neck as he felt his desire rising again. He cupped her breast and bit her shoulder so that she cried out his name, “Ross!” Rather than having her turn towards him, he pushed her so that her stomach lay flat on the bed and he massaged her weary shoulders and back, thoroughly, until he was trailing along her particularly well-formed ass. He continued his ministrations not with his hands, but his tongue and his lips and his teeth working their way up and down her body.
She moved to turn, and invite him into her, but he held her down, as she was. “Please, no.” He uttered, and then pulled her towards him, so that she was prostrate, but pushing back, towards him. She raised herself on all fours (balancing on her elbows rather than her hands) and gasped as he entered her that way, from behind. As he thrust in and out of her, she found herself quickly beginning to feel the sensation she had experienced just moments before, at the touch of his fingers. But this time, he was so deep inside of her, and she was moaning at his touch- pushing back against him, begging for more. As he began to feel his climax build, he was gripped with a need to make her feel something of what he was feeling. Her reached around her waist and began using his fingers on her again, as he continued to ride her.
“Oooh, Ross. Sir… Oh…” He wanted to cup her breasts, to kiss her, to smack her ass- he wanted to do everything it was possible for a man to do to a woman, and then she shuddered against him, barely able to breathe or move and that sent him over the edge so that he only saw white and and feared his heart was about to leap from his chest. He rolled away from her, hearing her try to catch her own breath, trying desperately to do the same- not wanting to be touched (believing he would die from anymore pleasure), but also not being quite able to resist from touching her.
Tenderly he kissed her cheek and shoulder and turned to sleep, his arm draped over her, hoping she would stay the night. He had never before shared his bed with a woman, not for anything beyond that act of pleasure- he had never truly slept with anyone. He had always assumed that sharing a bed would be cramped and crowded and uncomfortable, but he found himself enjoying the warmth and softness of her being there, took comfort in her steady, even breaths and even the very faint, occasional snore once she had dropped into a deep sleep under the covers.
He looked at her as she slept. How had he never noticed precisely how long and beautiful her neck was? Or the way that she had that unruly curl that drooped over her forehead, whether she tied her hair back or no or that one small freckle on her bottom lip, a spot that he was fairly desperate to taste and suck on and tease.
He sighed, unsure how to handle things. Tomorrow they would have to speak, he had no idea what he would say- would she hate him? He didn’t think so, she had come to him willingly enough, and he thought he had given her pleasure in return. No, he did not know what he was going to do, what they would do, but he knew that this was the first time since he had returned to Nympara that he did not feel alone, as though his soul was tired of the world and he was a miserable wretch, completely alone and incapable of love or happiness, or even of contentment.
He looked at her sleeping one last time and then closed his eyes. Demelza may not have been particularly skilled or knowledgeable, but she had been enthusiastic and pliant and beautiful- if he had to admit it to anyone, he was quite sated and exhausted beyond belief. As he drifted off to sleep he thought that while tomorrow he and Demelza had much to talk about, he did not regret knowing the contours of her body and softness of her breasts… no, he did not regret a moment of tonight, other than wishing perhaps it had happened sooner.