green is not a creative colour

Jinx seated herself in the snowy loam, content now with Robur's presence and certain he would do nothing foolish. If he did, she was poised to regain her feet in an instant to intercept him; she had maintained the upper hand thus far, and would not let her guard drop. Nonetheless she had identified him as no threat to her home, and couldn't very well chase him off, seeing as they were at minimum half a mile from where the scent markings were most concentrated, and Hawkeye was reported to be nearby. She would not risk her Alpha's ire by pissing off the other Alpha.

When Robur spoke next, she felt a tendril of disgust curl into her stomach. From his account he preferred sex with underage wolves, something which was not only gross, but unnatural. A queer feeling of distrust prodded at her gut at the thought of this—what underage female would allow such a thing, given their bodies were not receptive to that sort of attention?—as she wondered whether Robur had used force on them or not.

Suddenly, she was less comfortable. Her spine tingled with a mixture of trepidation and alarum, as though her image of a forceful Robur had made itself reality, even though it hadn't. When he made a quip about Jinx's preference, she fought to keep the distaste from entering her voice when she said, No matter what parts they have, all of them are disgusting, she confirmed, speaking aloud for the first time ever her distaste for sex and sexuality altogether. Sex was disgusting, underage sex een moreso, and sex between wolves of a like sex was the most heinous of all.

At least, that's how it was according to the Kesuk, who was queerly incapable of feelings of love or lust.