He has felt this hunger for more than just this season. Through winter, through spring, through summer - but though his heart is missing, his soul gave him the control he lacked. The heart, the seat of emotions, it was a giant abyss too deep to understand. It was not lack of emotion, though it was easier to turn off for him - it was unfiltered emotion that was either all-consuming or none at all. The heart that made them make sense in one’s mind was missing.
So for her, his hunger was bottomless, endless. He would run out of energy long before he ran out of hunger for her in the matters of Min and Qetesh. He watches her with those eyes that whispered to her about the depths of his darkness and she does not freeze, she does not retreat to his brothers. Instead she slides in by his side and challenges him instead, taking off from him suddenly like a rabbit tired of the chase and ready for its eventual demise between canine teeth. The instinct to chase has no hesitation, there is no breath to even register her flight in his conscious mind.
He is simply after her in a manner that almost seemed like looming or impending danger, were it not for her year of getting to know his demon. The Black in him sung into the night, screaming its elation for her instigated chase. Her words thrown back to him only fuel the mad pounding of his hooves. His legs pump into sand like a whirlwind of black until there is no more distance to be had between them.
To his word, he is not a very gentle lover - he tries but it is simply not the nature of the Husband she chose. He grips where he can find purchase, only just careful enough that there is nothing but the Wife mark owed him in her withers by the end. Perhaps a few bruises and scuffs, he is too wild for anything less - as accused by the Priestess of Min who had had him first, but no slicing or bleeding wounds. He is also too amorous for one chase, for one coupling, for one anything. It would probably be remarked that the fervor of his waiting a year had brought on the twins… but his violence would likely be said to be the reason on child was imperfect.
When he is at last worn of the energy they did not waste in the chase, he slides from her back and pushes an apologetic muzzle into the place where she now bore his mark as Sayyida bore Antares’.