Word Count: 136
notches on the bedpost
He had lovers.
Companions, really.
They didn't care for him, much like he didn't care for them either.
It came up often enough over the centuries, this primal lust that just needed to be sated. Sweat-slicked, burning touches chased away the feeling of loneliness, if only for a fleeting moment in this long life of his.
He didn't care for them, much like they didn't care for him either.
Not like how she did now.
This vile human woman who had plagued his life so many centuries ago was now touching him, kissing him, almost as if they were lovers. She moaned his name with pleasure, wanting him, needing him—all of him.
He didn't care for her, he told himself, hoping it would lessen the pain for when she would have to leave him forever.