Redhawk Caldera jaguar

The day following his night of trespass, Kaizer returned, as diligent and as wild as ever. He had taken a much-needed period of rest after his exciting encounter with the Caldera's young upstarts, but none of that deterred him from his blatant goal; none of that mattered when the breeze still carried on it the billowing scent of @Fox. He could smell her even over the dead otter he carried for her from the lake. Depositing his still-damp catch, and licking his chops, the roguish competitor came to stand at the clearly marked border of Redhawk.

Though it wasn't a natural choice for him, he had decided that he would not cross their threshold uninvited again. Out of the two times he had come here, the one time he didn't cross this line had gone infinitely in a better direction so it stood to reason that this was proper etiquette here. Still, he wasn't inclined to just stand there or call for an audience when his intentions were so specified, so he picked up the lake-weasel— whose tail dragged on the ground even with his head held at its highest— and began trotting along the border in search of someone.

Fox had been more diligent in her patrols since Peregrine's death. It felt both like yesterday and years ago that she had buried him. Patrolling kept her busy, kept her mind occupied to some degree, and allowed her respite from the constant "how are you?" and "can I do anything?" questions from her pack-mates. Not only that, but she was vaguely aware that Kaizer might return at some point in the near future.

Just like that, she spotted the familiar figure, and she strode down the caldera with purpose in her step. He was carrying something—food—and Fox licked her lips. She greeted him with a steady gaze that was mostly focused on the weasel. Her tail stiff and her legs rigid, she ducked and attempted to grab onto it and steal it away from him.

Ever a guarded wolf, Kaizer turned keenly as soon as Fox's approach became apparent. The there she was, coming like a tide of fire and napalm; a force to be reckoned with. He watched her fast approach warily, chin lifted only to carry her gift properly, but his muzzle instinctively tucked when she dove forward. He left himself open for assault, but surprisingly her motion was only to catch the tail end of the otter, meaning to snatch it from him. Under normal circumstance— and mostly because it was for her— Kaizer would have immediately relented the carcass to her. But driven by hormones, and turned frisky by her scent, the male clamped down with a blatantly playful growl. He gave her more pull, coming with the meal instead of relinquishing it, before tugging back with a sharp turn of his head.

He pulled back, and Fox was ready to rip his throat out before she realized that he meant to do so only in a playful way. Playfulness was not something that had been on her radar since Peregrine's death, nor did she really want it on her radar right now. How could she play when she did not even know if he had given her children? How could she play when her children had lost their father? How could she play when she had been refused by the only wolf who had been worthy to her? How could she play when all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and ignore the world, sans her children?

No, this was not a time for play, and Fox tugged violently on the carcass of the gift. A growl—a decidedly unplayful one—was emitted from her throat. Had he already been one with Redhawk Caldera, Fox might have acted differently. As it were, he was still a loner. A threat until proven otherwise.

The assumption of play only came with the strength of her estrus; his experience with females in this state before had been coltish, and decidedly amorous. Had he known anything about this particular she-wolf, or about what had occurred just days ago, Kaizer would not have goaded her. At any rate, he was a wolf absent of any long-term emotion, and so became immediately accommodating to the violent change in her body, without feeling any type of way about it. She didn't want to play— it was that simple for him.

He let go of the otter with an assenting snort, withdrawing several steps to watch her.

Kaizer relented, and Fox got what she wanted. Now that the otter was in her mouth, her grey eyes locked on him while she ripped it open, pinning it to the ground with her front paws. The flesh was ripe and tender. Warm against her mouth. It was the first decent meal she'd had since Peregrine had left, and she devoured it with reckless abandon. Flecks of blood and flesh covered her muzzle, but she paid them no mind.

Her eyes never left him, wary of his presence but unwilling to chase him off. If he neared, she would growl, but she was content to let him watch her eat.

He watched the fox-furred wolf eat, fascinated by her only because his loins dictated that he should be. Now, Kaizer wasn't a fickle man by any means— he had never thrown himself so vigorously or so quickly into a cause before— but he felt particularly driven to preform for her; a fact which could only be attributed to her stiflingly beckoning heat. Even when it was gone, if she allowed him to do so, he would remain. He would because he had spoken to her (pledged his services, really) and Bluesummer did not speak unless there was meaning behind it. Silence was his truest self; the wolf he would revert to when there was nothing else.

She only served to make herself more violently attractive by splattering gore. The renewed smell of blood and the nearness of her soul-siphoning heat drew from him a low, aching whine out the pit of his stomach. He had to force himself back onto his haunches, before randiness made him reckless. Licking his chops, and shifting in his seat, blue eyes glanced away from her briefly as he strained to keep himself polite.

A worthy hunter indeed. Fox devoured the otter in a matter of ten minutes or so, and stepped back from what remained of the carcass. Tufts of fur, a few of the larger bones, and a pool of blood was all that was left. She felt, for the first time since Peregrine's death, a brief sense of contentment. It lasted a few glorious seconds, and then it was gone. Fox heard his whine shortly after, and her eyes refocused on him.

He looked nothing like Peregrine. His coat was lighter, his eyes duller, his frame slighter, and his demeanor less jovial. That didn't make him less of a fit for a place by her side, but it did make him incredibly different than Peregrine. Fox took a few steps forward. She wasn't crowding him, but she did not intend to let the distance between them remain great. Her maw was still covered in the remains of the otter, as well as her chest and feet, but she did not care. Her single good eye (and her half-good one) scrutinized him again.

Then, another step forward. She sniffed his ear, which was warm on her cold, wet nose.

Kaizer was content to just listen to her feast, finding a broad satisfaction in the knowledge that he had been the one to provide for her, as promised. But despite his pride, the competitive devil kept his eyes elsewhere, choosing instead to survey their surroundings instead of the guarded female before him. It was easier to tolerate their proximity this way— if he pretended she wasn't truly there; if he ignored the constant crunching, slurping, and gulping as she ate. Only when it all stopped did he finally turn his head, blanketing her with a wary look.

She had been mercurial towards him so far (though the reason for which he couldn't tell) and as a result her unpredictability had made him hyper-aware of her. Her gray eyes— one lighter than the other; cloudy, he might say— seemed to study him more deeply than before, and as she at last drew nearer, he was able to make out more details about her than he had previously. Unkempt and unconcered-looking, she'd been a mother at least once before, and was scarred visibly in several places; the latter observation pegging her immediately as an incautious red wrecking ball.

But these were not things he minded. Kaizer himself didn't look prone to the upkeep of his outward appearance, and he favored the experienced over the naive, since it was in his nature to want his own family one day. Her apparent temerity might prove troublesome, but the male would be nothing if not willing to be challenged. He didn't yet rise to his feet, unwilling to even insinuate any sort of posturing, but he inclined his skull as she came close enough to touch, angling his head to provide her with a good sniff.

His ear twitched reflexively against her cold nose, and when she was satisfied, he carefully sought to return the favor. "Who are you?" he asked quietly, wanting to know more than he needed to.

She flinched when his nose touched her own ear, and she very nearly curled her lip at him, but Fox refrained. He broke the silence then, and she pulled back. "Fox," she replied, but hesitated on the surname. Was she even a Redhawk without Peregrine here? They had been the Redhawks together. Their children were Redhawks through and through, but without her other half, Fox hardly felt like one. And yet... "Redhawk." Yes, she was still a Redhawk. That question now had an answer.

Fox did not attempt to further the conversation beyond that. She already knew his name, and the rest she needed to know would be realized in due time. He would prove himself here, at Redhawk Caldera. Kaizer would not have an easy go of it by any means. He would need the approval of her children and her closest friends in order to weasel his way to the top.

The "incautious red wrecking ball" (a title so fitting) pulled away from him then, taking a step back and beckoning him to follow her into her realm. Kaizer would start at the bottom, just like everybody else.

Though not implicitly aware that he would be working his way from the bottom, it wasn't something he minded or hadn't expected. Still, his nature dictated that he try to usurp any male outranking him, and instinct now insisted that he fight to claim her, making his intrinsic nature a quaking faultline ready to crack. Fox turned away from him, her scent drawing him more than any one motion of her small, wiry body. He came close, giving her side just above her hip a tentative bump with his muzzle, testing her receptiveness, eager to know if she would let him court her.

"I need you," he said then, his tone strained by his own candor, though he felt unafraid to address the needs of his body and spirit. He withdrew from her side, prepared for her ire. "Everything in me is..." on fire. "Let me have you," he didn't let up, despite his place, despite his chances; "let me spend my life repaying you." He would clearly need to be put in his place.

Fox replied to the touch on her hip with a snap of her teeth, the sudden, forceful “click” ringing in her ears. ”I need you,” he crooned. When they had met, she had told him that she was to be earned, not taken. That policy still stood. He could, of course, challenge that. But the outcome was not one that was likely to be in his favor. Without Raven here, though, it was more difficult to object his advances. With her rock, so similar in appearance to her father, making the choices that others would agree with was easy. Without her, Fox was swayed easily by nature. She had never been a particularly complex wolf, and she had always been more feral than civilized.

And there was the chance she wasn’t already pregnant.

”What if you get what you want, and then change your mind?” she asked, pausing and narrowing her eyes in on him. She knew what her solution would be, of course. She would hunt him down herself and tear out his throat, relieving herself from any commitment to him. She had considered as much when she had thought Peregrine would no longer be useful to the pack, so why not Kaizer?

True to all facets of her name and moniker, she— Fox, the incautious red wrecking ball— snapped at him, creating space between them that he didn't want, and then her felt her mood swing back like a heavy pendulum rearing to crush him again... But the downswing didn't come immediately. She spoke instead, and Kaizer was left watching her in anticipation of something more painful than the insinuation that he would go back on his word. His tail bristled and lashed in quiet indignance, and he came close to her again without seeking to touch, but in a flaring display of his own virile attitude.

"Only a damned fool would change their mind about having you," he growled with deep-seeded certainty. Her personality was almost irrelevant in his evaluation of this. He was a male wolf in his prime, who wanted nothing more than his own family, and power; it was everything she had, and could give him. He wouldn't be a wolf if he didn't strive for it, the ultimate goal. "You are the grand prize, and once I've earned you—" because in his confidence he couldn't imagine another outcome— "there will be no changing my mind."

She was in possession of all the family, all the power, he could have ever wanted to be a part of. Her body was receptive, and craving just as badly as he, and if he gave up that chance to claim her, than he wouldn't be a wolf deserving of his life. "I can't imagine I'd get very far, anyway, if I tried to leave you," he murmured, reaching forward to brush her side again with his nose. Because the second she didn't violently refuse him, would be the second he'd mount her.

That much was true, that only a fool would change their mind. But it was for different reasons. To cross Fox was to invite injury, to invite death. He brushed up against her again, and Fox twitched, pulled away, but she didn't snap at him this time. She spun around to face him, ears slicked back and hackles on end. It was the most she had heard him speak since meeting him, and she was not sure if it was a blessing or a curse. Things had been calmer with Peregrine. But calm wasn't what she longed for right now.

If he took her here, she could tell herself that the children were Peregrine's. She would have no way of knowing; nor would anybody else. Her pride, her ego, egged her on. She desperately wanted more Firebirds in this world, and very little could stop her from doing what she pleased. Peregrine had not been her mate when they had first danced that ancient dance... but neither had she any chance of becoming pregnant with his children. Fox continued to wrestle with these thoughts while keeping a close eye on Kaizer, should he try any more drastic measures.

Not unlike the rest of his Bluesummer kin, Kaizer was a wolf of opportunity. He looked for them, specifically; his eye trained to target even the slightest infirmity. Any advantage known to him, he would use, and any inch given in his favor was taken without a second -- perhaps not even a first -- thought. When she didn't snap at him, his tail began to lift, jolly roger swaying back and forth as he saw a blossoming chance now to commandeer the vessel of his most basic desire; and when she turned to face him, ears swiveling backwards, he saw her indecision as his instinctive cue to make the decision for her.

She was not a girl, to be coaxed with sweet words and gentle pleases. Fox was wholly woman; red-hot and temperamental, not made for the average or timid man. Kaizer was neither. And with his ears confidently raised, he sought to circle her, his teeth nipping curiously at her guard hairs to see if she would fight him away, lead him on a chase that would hopefully drain away her last bit of resistance, or stand still for this D.

We can fade here! ^_^

She snapped at him again and again, but eventually, they would taper off. Eventually, the Redhawk alpha would give in to her instincts and let him have her. The children would be Peregrine's, no matter who asked. She had let Peregrine have her before they had been ~official~, and she would let Kaizer have her, too. But the children would not be bastards. They would be Peregrine's, through-and-through.

Fox would deny any intimacies with Kaizer, if asked, and she would tear his throat out if he mentioned it to anybody, but their scents would be an easy indicator that they had spent a great deal of time with one another the next few days. Never would she let the children see her with him, choosing instead to steal away whenever she could shirk her duties.

Kaizer was nothing if not tenacious, and his awakened voracity for Fox was quite evident in the manner he took up to pursue her. Eventually she relented— her judgement clouded by the instinctual desire to procreate— and the fiery milf alpha took her newest recruit's virginity. New to the tango as he was, he didn't disappoint, spurring Fox to take him several more times before the end of her heat. Always in private and never with affection; not that he was bothered by the secrecy or lack of such menial nuances.

None of this had anything to do with his emotions (not that he had many), and he would feel quite full of himself for some time after, having not only experienced one of the greatest pleasures known to the warm-blooded, but having done it with the most powerful female he had come across since leaving home.