Northstar Vale i miss you in the dawn & most of all, your fingerprints, everywhere (mtr.)

flagging though mahler found himself, the feathered press of aurëwen's wet lips to his wrist cascaded a warmth to his loins that settled, rousing him from his carnal stupor. his lavender eyes followed the trajectory of the dove in the water; he was content simply to watch her become a creature of the pond, moving among the lillies as if they were her sisters. 
"tell me," mahler rumbled, unmoving from the stretch of stone as their coiled scents enmeshed themselves within his fur. her mouth moved further along the gargoyle's corded foreleg; he lay back languidly, eyelids half-closed. aurëwen seemed to worship him in this moment, and while this had never happened for him before, the man was content to be still beneath her ministrations.
equally he wished to hear the dove, and hear her again, but there was time enough for the latter. the pressing churn of guilt and grief inched nearer, but with a mental snap of jaws mahler drove it out. soon he would be alone; soon he might feel its full weight, weep again for stigmata.
now — now belonged to mahler and to aurëwen, and though his own need for words was not present, he desired to listen, and perhaps thereby know better the woman he had only judged these past few months, for the very same flightly abandon that had drawn him into an exquisite sundering not once, but twice.