Living Under A Loaded Gun

Well now he was thoroughly confused. Slowly he sank to his haunches, his gaze riveted on Nuada's face. He honestly couldn't make up his mind about her. No one was this naive. He'd known about sex since, what, the turn of his first year? Somewhere quite early in his development a certain part of his anatomy had gotten intriguing and exploration of its quirks had become a lifelong field of interest. So that Nuada, someone who was roughly his age, had gotten this far in life completely clueless to the act set off all kinds of warning bells.

Not one to get squiggy about the topic, Jupiter did his best to pull the pieces together for her. He was convinced that at some point it would click and she'd go 'oh yeah, right, that, I've heard of that' because he couldn't wrap his head around the idea that she was 4-5 years old and didn't have so much as a smidge of understanding on the topic.

Unless...

His face went slack. Oh god had he felt up a mentally handicapped woman? Surely not. His expression unreadable, Jupiter studied Nuada's face. He didn't remember her being simple when they were children but they had been children. Who was to say he simply hadn't noticed? "Sex is something two," or more, but he was trying to keep it simple for her. "Wolves who like each other do for fun or to make babies. You're telling me you have no idea what I'm talking about? Bonin'? Bumpin uglies? Smackin' the salmon?" He could spout euphemisms all day but surely if she knew what he was talking about he'd given her enough to make her understand. "Are you familiar with any of those terms?"