His tail whisks DB smartly in the face, less any attempt to push him off and more a crisp "I see you there." It's summer, so his testes are mostly hidden, but the tinge of ozone in his musky fox scent suddenly intensifies. He licks Dogma's muzzle one more time, more deliberately, in refusal to be rushed, before turning on a dime and bouncing upright, balanced on his back legs, his forelegs landing on Dronebait's shoulders. And suddenly, despite their relative weights which should have made it impossible, the wolfdog is the one knocked over, on his side on the ground. Jedao stands on him with his forelegs again, making a throaty rattling noise like a ratchet. He leans in with his triangular jaws open wide, around DB's ear, pressed sideways against his throat, closing gently around his muzzle.

He never really bites down: it's all surprise and no pain for the overeager pup, over in a handful of seconds, but the vulpine gesture of dominance translates neatly. Then Jedao licks his muzzle too, and hops over him to let him up. He circles around in a careless mince, and gets a quick sniff of Dronebait's ass before the bigger canine manages to get back to his feet. Jedao makes a cackling, yipping sound of playful amusement, and whacks Dronebait's back legs with the wedge of his head to nudge him up. He's perfectly friendly, but puppies will know their place, even mostly-grown ones with a hundred pounds on him.

Then Jedao goes back to paying attention to Dogma, nuzzling at his neck, tail wagging steadily again.