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Sakhr was furious. No, he was beyond furious. He was so far past the word furious that he doubted that there was a word that could describe the way he felt. It was an insane thread of red-hot rage that twined around his heart over and over again until it threatened to suffocate him.

Parmelia had been waiting for him at the den. She'd looked strained but sounded well, and had gone on to describe a male lion that had approached her from the shadows earlier in the day. He'd offered her a rather vile proposition - and she'd patiently turned him down. She'd been hesitant in giving any real, concrete details, but he'd been able to frighten a name out of her before he'd left.

Nobody - nobody - approached his wife in such a way.

After speaking to a few Reavers who gave him odd looks, Sakhr finally made it to the den where these brothers lived. Letting out a loud, furious roar, Sakhr waited for someone - anyone - to respond.

Rovstik didn't usually hear male lions roaring for his attention. It wasn't a sound he was much interested in. Fighting had never appealed to him, beyond the minimum necessary to earn his place and win him a sub now and then.

When the unwanted male didn't leave, Rovstik drifted to the entrance of the den, his paws moving without a whisper of sound. He peered out at the strange male, disinterested.

"Go away. You're disturbing our subs."

Sakhr wasn't sure what a sub was, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to know what a sub was - so he didn't ask.

For now.

"You or one of your lecherous ilk approached my wife today, and I'm here to bash your skull in," Sakhr snarled, teeth bared. It would be obvious to any normal lion that Sakhr was enraged - but then again, maybe he wasn't really dealing with any normal sort of lion.

Usually lions didn't bother Rovstik over nonsense like this. If he thought a female was unclaimed, he asked after her. If she declined, he went on his way. It was hardly his fault that he had mistaken one of the many new lionesses for a thrall. Rovstik yawned, terribly bored with this conversation already. Maybe he should fetch a sub and cram food into her mouth. That would be some entertainment.

"Since she's not currently freeing her inner goddess in our red den of pain, I'm assuming she said no," Rovstik said. "We have plenty of willing subs, we don't need to pester after your wife. Shoo now." He waved a paw languidly at the stranger.

Sakhr was a little baffled, and it took him a moment to realize (kind of realize, anyway) what the lion was talking about. Well, it wasn't so much that he realized what the lion was talking about as it was he put two and two together and came up with five.

Whatever.

"You can't just go around harassing females in the pride like that," Sakhr snarled, his mane fluffing in annoyance. Hackles up, claws unsheathed, all of the bells and whistles.

And he wasn't being taken seriously. This was not how he'd pictured this going, not at all.

Rovstik regarded the male with mild surprise, one eyebrow slightly raised. The male was a stranger to him, but as Rovstik didn't trouble himself to track the comings and goings of males he had no idea how long the male had been a member of the pride... or if he was an original member that Rovstik had never noticed.

"I can ask whoever I please to be my sub," Rovstik said. "Freeborn females, being free, are also free to say no." He looked down his nose at the stranger, feeling a bit disdainful. "Are you an outsider of some sort?"

"Okay, look. I'm sorry. Yes, I'm an outlander, not that that should make any sort of difference. You're going to have to just. I don't even know what a sub is. Is this some special pride thing I haven't learned about? The Lawspeaker I talked with didn't say anything about it, and I'm not entirely sure what one is. So. Before we continue, I'd like to know what a sub is, and what a red den of pain is - and what an inner goddess is, too. Because right now you're just not making any sense to me, and I'd like to try and understand where you're coming from before I tear your throat out."

This had to be the most irritating waste of time Rovstik had been forced to put up with in weeks. He almost never spoke to male lions outside of his own brothers, and was hardly interested in gabbing about the intimate details of his life with this slack-jawed twerp.

"Since you've already called me a lecher, I'm sure you have some idea of what a sub is," Rovstik said irritably. "A female that serves a dominant male. Sexually." He sighed. "By accessing their inner goddesses through service to us in our red den of pain, subs can realize their true potential and be taken to heights of unspoken pleasure and carnal delight."

"Now. Please take your threats elsewhere, because I have no interest in trouncing a male when I could be spanking a sub."

Well. Mind. Blown.

Sakhr's mouth opened and closed a few hundred times as he sat there and stared at the male. What could a sane lion say to such a thing. It was obvious that he wasn't dealing with someone who was working at full mental capacity.

Still, Sakhr felt as if he needed to get his point across, and really nail it home.

"Well, whatever." Seriously. "If you ever come near my wife again, I'll rip your throat out, I swear to the Gods I will."

Rovstik didn't really care about this male's idle threats. He had done just enough fighting in his life to earn the rank of Reaver. That fighting had been done out of necessity, and not for pleasure. Rovstik was not interested in spending his energy pounding other males when he could be pounding subs.

Honestly, the things some lions wasted their time with.

"I don't know which one your wife is," Rovstik said, waving a paw dismissively. "But I don't bother myself chasing after lionesses that have idea of their own potential."

Really.

"If you'll excuse me, I have a sub waiting whose bottom needs training."