Northstar Vale & prayer-pale stars that pass the drowsing-incensed hymns (mtr.)

A somnolent fevergleam within argent eyes;
a mumbled mimicry of that insidious name through lips bitten to disbelief, as if the very sight of him, leonine and lording in that he wants her beneath him is too good a truth; much too good, and the fée is faint, faraway; answering, answering only by gathering hinds beneath weak, wilting knees to quirk gaunt, glutting hips a smidgen more.  “You should have taken me ze way my dream did,”  trilling; trembling; his teeth in her jaw; his belly on her back.  “Claimed me ze way you first had. Ruined me beneath ze stars.”  He'd been the bane of her winter, then  –  so she had dreamt dark and delicate of his voyage to the heavens and when left so waning, so desolate; and though Andraste is loathe to press herself back to stone she does, if only reach for him with words fluting, wistful, wanton:  “You never did miss what it felt like to be inside me, did you?”  Means to taunt him, herself;
but it leaves her in a shivery warble; eyes filmy with hushed fervor.

As to his own disbeliefs—
the subtle smear that'd sodden her inner thigh would like to to put his doubts to rest ... and tonttu would like to know if he could taste her from here. But! lest she forget:  “Do you not ache for me, melitse?”
Brow writ with gauzy worry: had she incensed him to irritation, that so-early morn? Had she said some-thing that she could not ever remember?  (Which, truthfully, was most of all that she had spoken, then.)

Would he let her atone for what-ever terrors she had wrought?