Cerulean Cape Cause for hate and a cause for ending, it sounds so easy

What a prick. Of course he wasn't going to concede to her authority—nobody else did, not even her actual subordinates, so why would he? His display was met with further contrition from Wylla, who craned her neck and snarled bodily at him as her entire body bristled. The only thing keeping her from launching another attack was the confusing mix of submission and dominance he showed as he approached—one minute his tail was threatening in its stillness, the next it relaxed and drifted reassuringly. Wylla's eyes narrowed into slits as he got close, and then he made his daring move.
He bit at her flank and she turned immediately to retaliate, opening herself to his advance. The moment she felt his forelegs touch her rump, the young Luschyon bucked him off and turned to snap a warning at his jaws. There must have been something in that act, though, for after several tense moments in which they alternated between a rigid stand off and scuffling with one another, Raptor tried his luck again and she begrudgingly consented, driven by an imperative deeper than her hatred to tolerate him just long enough to get his rocks off in a hurried and far-from-sweet manner, after which she twisted and snarled and went down in the sand in a flurry of aggression with him still tenderly attached.