You open the door to see him, humbled as he always is upon arrival. He's a pathetic man for you, something he hates. He doesn't come often, maybe once every few months, but it's only because he reaches his limit. He needs you, as much as he hates it, and he can't stay away for any longer than that.

"Hey," He says, walking in without necessarily waiting for approval. He shuts the door behind him and picks you up, keeping you tightly in his arms, burying his face in your hair. He takes a deep breath, almost committing your scent to memory.

You struggle out of his arms and back down to the floor. He can't keep his eyes off of you, feeling a pang of neediness.