#HHHHHHHHHHHHRGHHHHHHHHH

[munku-collar]

Sometimes the ghost of his touch sweeps across her fur: His grasping paws, the sweet thrill of his claws scratching just deep enough to send chills up her spine. They filled her with heat and flame so many times she still feels the cinders burning. His kiss was always hungry, regardless of the strength of it, like he was stealing bits of her away, like it was the only thing in the world worth having. It was always intense; every tryst felt like the first and last, hard and desperate even when the pace was slow, until there was nothing left to give in either direction, and the green of his eyes swallowed her whole. Everlasting, it had felt good. It was overwhelming, and enchanting, and never enough, until suddenly, it was. 

Because it had been enough eventually, Demeter reminds herself. She remembers the disappointments, the anger, the bitterness, and the pain. She thinks about the scar on her hip, the anxious beating of her heart more often than not, and the pleas of his victims, begging fruitlessly before an unjust god. She thinks about the nightmares, the haunting look she finds in her own reflection nowadays, and the fear that won’t go away, no matter what she does. Macavity’s love, his touch and all that came with it couldn’t outweigh his hatred, his darkness then, and it certainly can’t now. Monsters made under moonlight are rarely unmade.

There are many things in the world that are beautiful, but filled with poison, and she learned that first hand in those days. She had been poisoned for too long, with kisses and promises and the heat of his body against hers, which although sincere, did nothing but spread venom, spread pain from the inside out. It took so long to draw it out of herself. But she had. She’d gotten away, and promised herself never to go back. It’s a promise she refuses to break.

The depraved beauty in it all, in him, and the rush of it, even in the poison, means little nowadays compared to the tenderness, the gentle devotion she has earned from her new lover. Fire doesn’t have to burn, she’s come to learn. It can warm instead, entirely and utterly and beautifully. Kisses can be sweet, without the bitterness of poison. Passion doesn’t have to destroy, and she doesn’t have to be destroyed for its sake. Love doesn’t have to hurt so, so damn much.

‘Those days are long gone,’ she tells herself, thinking on the past, and of that twisted love, and she drags her paws up her fur, trying to scratch away those memories, those smoking cinders. She watches them fly away in the wind. 

‘Good riddance.’

#my shit #demecavity #demestrap #munkustrap #macavity #demeter #cats demeter #demeter cats #JH #i will not juggle #I WILLNOT JUGGLE #HHHHHHHHHHHHRGHHHHHHHHH #cats the musical #cats 1998