Post by dianahawthorne on Oct 4, 2008 21:53:12 GMT -5
True Love
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Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognisable.
Rating: M
Summary: What if Othello had drowned in the storm just as Desdemona had reached Cyprus? Cassio becomes the governor of Cyprus, and he marries Desdemona, his one true love.
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“The Moor’s ship has sunk!” the watchman called out.
“No! Othello!” Desdemona cried, collapsing into Cassio’s arms.
“Emilia, take Desdemona to her chambers; Iago, come with me,” Michael Cassio commanded, assuming the role of the leader.
Iago nodded and the two men ran to the shore. The water was far too violent to attempt a search, and Cassio and Iago returned to the governor’s palace, where Desdemona was waiting for news.
“There is no sign of the Moor, my lady,” Iago said. Desdemona buried her head in Emilia’s lap, weeping.
“Oh, Othello!” she sobbed. “Oh, my dear Othello...”
“We shall continue to search for him, Desdemona,” Cassio promised her, “But I am afraid that he has drowned.”
She nodded, tears in her eyes, and extended her hand to him. “Thank you, Cassio,” she said, choking out the words from between her sobs.
He kissed her hand and left the room to see what the status of the search for Othello was.
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Three weeks later, Othello had not been found, and was declared dead, making Desdemona a widow. Michael Cassio was appointed governor of Cyprus, by order of the Venetian Senate. Desdemona’s cousin Lodovico, a senator, had travelled from Venice to Cyprus to deliver the news of Cassio’s installation as the governor. He also brought several other messages with him. Desdemona’s father Brabantio wanted her to return to Venice so that she could marry, but she refused. He wanted her to marry Roderigo, a change from his initial belief that she was too good for him. Brabantio now believed that no one would want to marry her because she had been married to the Moor, even though they had never had the chance to consummate their marriage. But Desdemona refused to return to Venice because she was to marry Michael Cassio.
He had proposed to her before she had received the letter from her father, after Othello had been declared dead – he had loved her for years, and he had thought that his chance with her was over when she had married his best friend. But when Othello had drowned, he had another chance to win her over. And she had said yes. She had said yes!
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They were married three days later in a simple ceremony at the governor’s palace – their new home. Iago, Cassio’s lieutenant, was the witness, along with Iago’s wife, Emilia. They were married by Desdemona’s cousin Lodovico. After their wedding, Michael and Desdemona retired to their chambers in the governor’s palace to consummate their marriage, something that Desdemona had not had the chance to do with her first husband.
As soon as they reached their chambers, Michael scooped his new wife up into his arms and carried her over the threshold, laughing.
“Oh, Michael,” she said, kissing him lightly. “I love you, I do,” she confessed. “I have loved you for years.”
He smiled widely. “And I have always loved you,” he told her, kissing her.
He brought her in to their bedroom, laying her down on the large canopy bed. “Oh, Desdemona, my sweet,” he said. “I love you so.” He began to unbutton her dress, and her breathing quickened as he undressed her, baring her skin to his eyes and to his touch.
“Michael,” she gasped as he pulled the dress away from her body, throwing it on the ground, baring her body to his sight. No man had ever seen her naked, and she blushed as his eyes travelled up and down her body, his trousers becoming tented as he took in the sight of her beautiful form.
She sat up from her place on the bed and began to undress him, beginning with his tunic, which she dropped on the floor, revealing his chest. Her breathing quickened as she brought her hands down to his trousers. Michael kicked off his shoes and helped her remove them. When he was naked, too, she stared at him in wonder.
“Oh, Michael,” she said, looking at him. “Michael...”
“Desdemona, my sweet,” he said, urging her to lie down on the bed. “My sweet, sweet love...”
He began to kiss her body – her face, her breasts, her collarbone, her stomach – as she gasped and writhed beneath him. When he was finally too aroused to continue lavishing her body with kisses, he gently spread her legs and, kneeling between them, guided himself into her, slowly, slowly, and she gasped in pain and in pleasure. He paused, allowing her to adjust to his presence and size. Soon, however, she was urging him to move within her, rocking her hips against his.
“Michael, Michael!” she cried out to him, wrapping her legs around his waist, continuing to roll her hips against his. He controlled himself, moving in her gently, slowly; but she increased the speed of his movements by rocking her hips faster against his. He continued to move within her, speeding up his thrusts, though he did not lose control, not wanting to hurt her.
“Desdemona, my Desdemona!” he yelled as he collapsed on top of her, spilling into her. She began to come as well, contracting around him, waves of her orgasm washing over her, spreading into his body as well, prolonging his climax.
“Oh, Michael,” she whispered, holding him to her.
“Desdemona, my Desdemona,” he whispered back to her, rolling over and cradling her in his arms. He planted kisses on her beautiful red hair, trailing down to her forehead, finally kissing her sweet, tender lips. She tasted of honey and cloves and smelled of flowers. She was an absolute angel, a bit of heaven on earth. “I love you so,” he said. “You are the most beautiful, marvellous woman alive,” he told her.
She smiled at him. “Oh, Michael,” she sighed happily. “I love you, too.”
He returned her smile, kissing her again. He could not stop himself from continuing to kiss her – she was so beautiful, so responsive, so desirable.
“Desdemona, my sweet,” he said in between kisses. “You are so beautiful.”
She smiled bashfully, blushing. “No, I’m not,” she whispered.
He laid his fingers on her lips, stopping her protests. “Yes, you are, my sweet,” he said. “Yes, you are.”
She beamed. “Thank you, Michael,” she told him, yawning.
“Are you tired, my dearest?” he asked her, and she nodded sleepily, her eyes growing heavy. “Then sleep now, my darling,” he said, tenderly stroking her hair. She smiled up at him one last time, kissing him lightly, before snuggling against his chest and falling asleep.
He stayed awake, looking down at his new wife, continuing to stroke her hair, smiling down at her. “I love you, Desdemona,” he whispered, kissing her forehead lightly, before falling asleep as well.
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Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognisable.
Rating: M
Summary: What if Othello had drowned in the storm just as Desdemona had reached Cyprus? Cassio becomes the governor of Cyprus, and he marries Desdemona, his one true love.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“The Moor’s ship has sunk!” the watchman called out.
“No! Othello!” Desdemona cried, collapsing into Cassio’s arms.
“Emilia, take Desdemona to her chambers; Iago, come with me,” Michael Cassio commanded, assuming the role of the leader.
Iago nodded and the two men ran to the shore. The water was far too violent to attempt a search, and Cassio and Iago returned to the governor’s palace, where Desdemona was waiting for news.
“There is no sign of the Moor, my lady,” Iago said. Desdemona buried her head in Emilia’s lap, weeping.
“Oh, Othello!” she sobbed. “Oh, my dear Othello...”
“We shall continue to search for him, Desdemona,” Cassio promised her, “But I am afraid that he has drowned.”
She nodded, tears in her eyes, and extended her hand to him. “Thank you, Cassio,” she said, choking out the words from between her sobs.
He kissed her hand and left the room to see what the status of the search for Othello was.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Three weeks later, Othello had not been found, and was declared dead, making Desdemona a widow. Michael Cassio was appointed governor of Cyprus, by order of the Venetian Senate. Desdemona’s cousin Lodovico, a senator, had travelled from Venice to Cyprus to deliver the news of Cassio’s installation as the governor. He also brought several other messages with him. Desdemona’s father Brabantio wanted her to return to Venice so that she could marry, but she refused. He wanted her to marry Roderigo, a change from his initial belief that she was too good for him. Brabantio now believed that no one would want to marry her because she had been married to the Moor, even though they had never had the chance to consummate their marriage. But Desdemona refused to return to Venice because she was to marry Michael Cassio.
He had proposed to her before she had received the letter from her father, after Othello had been declared dead – he had loved her for years, and he had thought that his chance with her was over when she had married his best friend. But when Othello had drowned, he had another chance to win her over. And she had said yes. She had said yes!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
They were married three days later in a simple ceremony at the governor’s palace – their new home. Iago, Cassio’s lieutenant, was the witness, along with Iago’s wife, Emilia. They were married by Desdemona’s cousin Lodovico. After their wedding, Michael and Desdemona retired to their chambers in the governor’s palace to consummate their marriage, something that Desdemona had not had the chance to do with her first husband.
As soon as they reached their chambers, Michael scooped his new wife up into his arms and carried her over the threshold, laughing.
“Oh, Michael,” she said, kissing him lightly. “I love you, I do,” she confessed. “I have loved you for years.”
He smiled widely. “And I have always loved you,” he told her, kissing her.
He brought her in to their bedroom, laying her down on the large canopy bed. “Oh, Desdemona, my sweet,” he said. “I love you so.” He began to unbutton her dress, and her breathing quickened as he undressed her, baring her skin to his eyes and to his touch.
“Michael,” she gasped as he pulled the dress away from her body, throwing it on the ground, baring her body to his sight. No man had ever seen her naked, and she blushed as his eyes travelled up and down her body, his trousers becoming tented as he took in the sight of her beautiful form.
She sat up from her place on the bed and began to undress him, beginning with his tunic, which she dropped on the floor, revealing his chest. Her breathing quickened as she brought her hands down to his trousers. Michael kicked off his shoes and helped her remove them. When he was naked, too, she stared at him in wonder.
“Oh, Michael,” she said, looking at him. “Michael...”
“Desdemona, my sweet,” he said, urging her to lie down on the bed. “My sweet, sweet love...”
He began to kiss her body – her face, her breasts, her collarbone, her stomach – as she gasped and writhed beneath him. When he was finally too aroused to continue lavishing her body with kisses, he gently spread her legs and, kneeling between them, guided himself into her, slowly, slowly, and she gasped in pain and in pleasure. He paused, allowing her to adjust to his presence and size. Soon, however, she was urging him to move within her, rocking her hips against his.
“Michael, Michael!” she cried out to him, wrapping her legs around his waist, continuing to roll her hips against his. He controlled himself, moving in her gently, slowly; but she increased the speed of his movements by rocking her hips faster against his. He continued to move within her, speeding up his thrusts, though he did not lose control, not wanting to hurt her.
“Desdemona, my Desdemona!” he yelled as he collapsed on top of her, spilling into her. She began to come as well, contracting around him, waves of her orgasm washing over her, spreading into his body as well, prolonging his climax.
“Oh, Michael,” she whispered, holding him to her.
“Desdemona, my Desdemona,” he whispered back to her, rolling over and cradling her in his arms. He planted kisses on her beautiful red hair, trailing down to her forehead, finally kissing her sweet, tender lips. She tasted of honey and cloves and smelled of flowers. She was an absolute angel, a bit of heaven on earth. “I love you so,” he said. “You are the most beautiful, marvellous woman alive,” he told her.
She smiled at him. “Oh, Michael,” she sighed happily. “I love you, too.”
He returned her smile, kissing her again. He could not stop himself from continuing to kiss her – she was so beautiful, so responsive, so desirable.
“Desdemona, my sweet,” he said in between kisses. “You are so beautiful.”
She smiled bashfully, blushing. “No, I’m not,” she whispered.
He laid his fingers on her lips, stopping her protests. “Yes, you are, my sweet,” he said. “Yes, you are.”
She beamed. “Thank you, Michael,” she told him, yawning.
“Are you tired, my dearest?” he asked her, and she nodded sleepily, her eyes growing heavy. “Then sleep now, my darling,” he said, tenderly stroking her hair. She smiled up at him one last time, kissing him lightly, before snuggling against his chest and falling asleep.
He stayed awake, looking down at his new wife, continuing to stroke her hair, smiling down at her. “I love you, Desdemona,” he whispered, kissing her forehead lightly, before falling asleep as well.
