Jugger should have known that it was dangerous to have accepted Torie's invitation to stay at the Montroc estates for a week of rest and recreation after that exciting sojourn on Keeve before returning to his unit. At that time, he had thought nothing of it, thinking it a chance for him to relax and enjoy the luxury of being pampered and having all his needs and wishes coddled to for a while, courtesy of the Montroc's wealth.
He even thought nothing of sitting with the Tersling and having a drink or two that first evening; until the question popped up…
"Jugger, would you really have come if I—if I just—asked?"
The question caught the Thrakite by surprise. He couldn't believe himself now for what he had disappointingly revealed of himself earlier. And it was coming back to bite him now. He could have brushed it off; could have cracked a joke, played off his long established image as a selfish lay about, interested in only drink, girls, money and fighting. But the earnest question from Torie… the Captain… Ex-Captain… Torie… Jugger had always thought the Tersling's bleeding heart would be the death of him.
"Yeah—yeah, I would."
"Why? You never liked authority figures. I never—thought you even—liked me."
And that was a can of worms thrown on the table between them. "Weren't nothing like that. You cared for each and every one of us in Force Nomad.
"And don't try and brush it off as duty. You weren't nothing like the Major. To him we were his soldiers. If the situation called for it, he'd sacrifice us on a mission. You never would have.
"As much as he tried to drum it into you, you refused to accept that lesson. Sure you'd play his game, but you also treated us like people. You'd go back for us."
"We—we had Hellscape. I would never leave any of you behind."
"Something the Legion don't practice no more. That's why you left the legionaries." Jugger told him point blank. "You didn't want to be faced with a situation where you'd be *ordered* to sacrifice us."
Torie looked away, choosing that moment to take a long drink of grog rather than answer. Jugger knew he called it right.
They could have left their conversation at that. In hind sight, Jugger knew that was the moment he should have got up and left; escaped the situation which suddenly yawned wide open between them.
They spent two years alone together on Hellscape. At that time, Jugger had never cursed his remarkable sense of smell more. Ordinarily, it was a great advantage. He could smell a prey's fear or confidence, helping him to judge a situation and make decisions on how to act to take down an opponent. On Hellscape, it had been hell on Jugger to be around Torie given what he was subjected to that first day. For a long time, the Tersling had reeked of hurt and need. And it had fired Jugger's instincts to hunt and take advantage of this wounded prey. Fortunately, there was also an underlying need awakened to comfort and protect which kept the Thrakite in check.
Right now, Jugger could smell that same scent of need and 'injury' on Torie again; probably awakened once more because of his close call when he had been captured and staked out spread eagled by the natives back on Keeve. When Jugger heard about it, he had wondered if Torie still suffered flashbacks of Hellscape. It was quite apparent now to Jugger that he did.
But this time, Jugger felt absolutely no pull on his instincts to attack this wounded prey and go in for the kill. Instead he felt the need to take and claim. A need which astoundingly to Jugger seemed to be equally matched in Torie's scent and body language which cried out for him to *be* claimed; to be dominated… possessed… and protected.
And this brought Jugger back to that first day on Hellscape what now felt like centuries earlier. The day Jugger was sole witness to the slaughter of the Tersling's innocence, without any hope of its resurrection, by a pack of Quaalian Berserkers.
They had thought he looked pretty. Torie had put up a hell of a fight when they started to pull at his armour and uniform. Ayla, Jugger had tried to break free of his bonds too when he realised what they intended to do. But the bospors had tied him too well and there were just too many of them. The Quaalians easily stripped Torie nude then held the struggling Tersling flat on his back with his legs stretched out wide and wanton for the entire horde to take turns fucking the shit out of him. They even cruelly made sure he was aware that his subordinate—that Jugger had a first class seat in witnessing his humiliation.
Torie had lain so still and unresponsive when the frantic assault finally wound down, Jugger had thought they fucked him to death. The Quaalians obviously believed the same since they left him for dead, lying discarded like a broken toy in a puddle of cum and sweat while they took Jugger with them for later entertainment. It surprised the hack out of him when Torie caught up with them by nightfall to free him and sneak away.
It had always left a sour taste in Jugger's mouth that they never got revenge on the bospors for Torie's gang rape. But outnumbered and severely underpowered as they were at that time, trying to seek revenge would have been suicide and more likely than not got them re-captured and Torie possibly gang raped again.
In the following two years that they spent together surviving and hiding on Hellscape, they never talked about the assault. Neither did the Thrakite say anything whenever they found shelter near a body of water and the Tersling spent a good amount of time bathing and thoroughly washing himself. In fact, Jugger thought himself to be quite the saint for not attempting to approach Torie at all when he'd be agonisingly exposed to all that enticing pale, naked, wet flesh.
It was the scars left behind by the Quaalians, which always made the Thrakite rein in his lust. Long scratches and nail marks quite liberally decorated Torie's arms, legs, waist, hips and buttocks. And these stark reminders of how firmly the Quaalians held tight to the struggling Tersling while they ravaged him, were more than sufficient to cool Jugger's ardour.
They never spoke of it, but despite the brutality of the assault, Jugger couldn't confess to have been unaffected by what he had been forced to witness. He wouldn't be ashamed to admit that he had always thought the Tersling possessed a very fine physique. Jugger was in fact very thankful that the basic Legion uniform was black and hid very much more than it showed. Rare as the occasions were, he had seen Torie walk around without the armour and had always found himself momentarily enticed by the very attractive arse.
When Torie was gang raped, Jugger had seen that beautiful arse bared and laid on display by the Quaalians for his reluctant though appreciative eyes. As long as he lived, Jugger would never forget the sight of Torie helpless, cum stained and struggling fruitlessly as his lips and sweet rose pucker were repeatedly shown off tightly pursed around a seemingly endless procession of eager cocks that stabbed into him hard and only departed mouth and arse when finally limp and satisfied. The Thrakite would have to guiltily admit, if only to himself, that he'd been as hard as a rock through the entire sordid event. And that he was furious with the bospors as much out of jealousy, as it was anger for the humiliating violation of his Captain.
In those two years they were alone together though, Jugger had steadfastly stayed the perfect gentleman and made no untoward advances on Torie. He'd even forgotten this 'inappropriate' lust when they returned to civilisation. But now, Torie was *inviting* him to touch—to take and claim him. And this time, Jugger did not resist the lust which urged and encouraged him to carefully strip the Tersling of his clothes; which egged him to touch and taste and devour this now well scarred flesh that he had resisted for so long.
Jugger was used to smooth curves and soft yielding flesh beneath his hands, not hard planes of muscle and sinew. Yet this felt no less sensuous or intoxicating. And the hard body beneath his powerful hands melted just as easily and mewled as sweetly with his strategic licks, nibbles and kisses to jaw and neck.
Maybe he should have spent a bit longer preparing his lover—found some lubricant instead of just depending on his own spit and pre-come—twisted and scissor more than two fingers into the Tersling's arse. But he was too impatient.
Jugger kept enough sense in him not to immediately shove his cock in to the root. However, he still had to acknowledge that he was probably proceeding faster than he really should. But Torie's sweet rose yielded readily under his demanding pressure. And the Tersling just opened so invitingly under Jugger, taking him into his tight hot centre as if the Thrakite belonged there. His arms had clung around Jugger's neck as he pushed into him; pulling his face and lips to his vulnerably bared throat.
"Ayla, Jugger. Fuck me." The Thrakite almost couldn't believe the words panted in his ear as Torie held tight to him with legs hooked around his waist and arms around his neck. "Please, take me."
And the words were enough to ignite that primal part of Jugger which he had carefully suppressed for so long around Torie; that beast inside of him which howled at Jugger to claim what he had always felt was his after Hellscape—what the beast within felt *should* have always been his. So Jugger gave that beast full rein to fuck and ravish their willing lover, making the Tersling cry out in pleasure and submission and bear his throat to Jugger's possissive lips and teeth which eagerly marked a claim upon Torie's flesh. A claim that Jugger's lust heated mind rather clearly demanded be exerted repeatedly in many more energetic couplings throughout the night.
They never talked about it in the morning. Jugger had to make sure he left while Torie was asleep. Because the Tersling only had to look at him sleepily, and Jugger found himself upon Torie again and fucking his brains out to draw from him that look of ecstasy and completion which he just *knew* no one else had ever been gifted the privilege to see since Hellscape.
For the entire week of his stay, whatever Jugger was up to, and from wherever he had escaped to and hid himself during the day, the evenings always found him seeking Torie to have a civilized meal and to try and gently apologise to his former Captain; to explain that he was acting totally out of character and had taken unforgivable advantage of Torie when he was clearly still shaken and vulnerable after his close call on Keeve.
But that never worked out.
They never talked during the meal. And after the servants had cleared away the last of the dessert dishes, Torie would walk over to Jugger and easily take one of his hands then lead him to his bedroom. Once there, the Thrakite needed little additional invitation to take the Tersling and fuck him into the mattress again and again until they both passed out in satiated exhaustion.
With the end of the week, Jugger practically fled the Montroc estates to return to his Unit; again leaving Torie while he was dead asleep in exhaustion after Jugger had fucked his brains out with the arrival of morning.
Jugger would swear that he was monumentally relieved that Torie didn't try to chase him down to talk. Once back with Force Nomad, Jugger once more immersed himself in Legion life and tried to forget about that week at the Montroc estates. Most importantly, he went back to pursuing girls and fucking every willing femme he could hook up with.
Peripherally, Jugger was glad too to hear bits of news of his former Captain gracing the social halos, with the media making much of the dates of one of the most eligible and enigmatic bachelors in the universe. He was never jealous to see the latest flavour hanging onto the Tersling's arm. He just wasn't very impressed by most of them. And when Zeerod once asked Jugger why he was so critical of Torie's dates, he claimed their former Captain deserved the best and that the girls he had dated so far clearly didn't make the grade. His comrades were kind enough not to immediately start whispering over his strange behaviour regarding their beloved though long departed Captain.
Jugger really thought the distance had been good for them. Unfortunately, Tamra's freaky biology fouled up all of Jugger's carefully reasoned out plans. As it turned out, Tamra's fertilization pod was built for more than one child. Jugger would swear that the poor femme was popping out kids every two or three years.
Fortunately for her, Torie generously opened his house to her brood. And over Jugger's useless protests, during one furlough Tamra and the icks dragged him along to the Montroc estate to visit Torie and her kids.
Jugger had always thought that taking on the responsibility of helping Tamra to raise her children was what made the Tersling finally settle down and really focus his attention on taking control of his father's empire. He'd still swear to Tamra though that Torie was a bad influence on her kids. The Thrakite nearly went into shock when Tamra's precocious little three year old patiently explained to her baby brother that he was Uncle Jugger. A thing he was quite sure was Torie's doing.
Jugger really thought the separation and the years had brought them back to their senses. At his request, Torie even gave him a room in a different wing of the vast estates without question. And he clearly didn't take offence with Jugger's demand. The Thrakite was sure his olfactory senses correctly identified Torie's response as amusement. Still, Jugger found that he couldn't stay away and the darkness of night found him quietly making the trek across the estate to Torie's rooms.
He was unsurprised when he entered, only be faced by Torie's personal blaster levelled at his head. When Torie recognised his visitor though, he laid down the weapon. The Tersling had then lain on the bed again. And Jugger swore to himself that if the Torie turned away from him, he would leave and return to his own bed. But, his former Captain did no such thing. Instead, he had settled on his back then lifted and bent his knees and spread his legs while moving his arms to cross his wrists over his head.
Presented this clear sign of invitation and submission, Jugger instincts had taken over. Before the Thrakite realised what he was doing, his body was possessively draped over the Tersling's and naturally fitted between the spread legs while his lips fiercely claimed Torie's. And in a matter of minutes, he'd freed his erection and buried it deep inside Torie's arse while his lips and teeth made their frantic re-acquaintance with the Tersling's naked flesh.
Jugger had fucked and ravished Torie twice more before his brain had sense enough to remind him that he was still unfairly fully clothed while his lover was naked; whereupon he quickly shucked his clothes and proceeded to nail Torie to the mattress another three times before they passed out in satiated exhaustion. They failed to leave Torie's rooms the next day.
In the lucid moments when Torie insisted on a break for food and drink and use of the bath, Jugger thought he must have been possessed. Because he otherwise couldn't control his need to ravish the fuck out of the Tersling on every available surface of his rooms. They fucked on his table, the sofa, the bathroom counter, in his bath, his shower… Jugger took him against the wall beside his wardrobe, against the door leading out to the corridor, on the carpet in front of the said door…
Exhaustion tainted with the feeling of satisfaction finally tamed the frenzy when night fell again. And Jugger quite contentedly snuggled in to sleep spooned against his lover with his cock still deeply nested inside Torie's arse. Guilt and mortification did not set in until after the pre dawn fucking and thorough ravishment of his exhausted though still responsive lover. With the light of dawn illuminating and starkly revealing the mauling he had delivered to Torie in a day and a half of marathon sex, Jugger found himself contradictorily filled with both satisfaction and shame.
It was Tamra who found him later hiding at the lake. "The doctors moved Torie into a tank. They said a couple of hours would do him a world of good." She told him neutrally as she sat down beside him.
Jugger had flinched and shrunk into a smaller and tighter ball with the word 'tank'. He couldn't look at her and in fact wondered why she wasn't waving a blaster in his face.
"Torie had the biggest shit eating grin on his face I've ever seen, and he said it was the best sex he's had in four years."
That made Jugger think about it and sit up a little straighter. "Hey, really?"
"You last stayed here about four years ago too, didn't you?"
Jugger shrank right down again, shocked with how quickly she connected the dots. "Maybe?"
Tamra smiled at him sweetly. "If you try and stay away from Torie that long again and cause a repeat of what you just did to him, Jugger Grimrod, I'll *castrate* you."
"This isn't—we aren't—this is crazy we're not—" Jugger tried to protest vehemently at the idea of them doing it again. "We just went mad—it's—it's not natural!"
"Whatever you say, Jugger."
"Ayla, I don't know what to think anymore." Jugger moaned pitifully as he hung his head between his knees. "I'm going to be sick. Maybe I am sick."
"We've always known that Jugger. That's not a very good excuse." She told him brightly.
Nothing more was said between them and Jugger allowed Tamara to lead him back to the main compound to spend some time with her rug rats. Torie was already up and about with the icks and kiddies assembled for lunch on the patio.
He gave no sign or made any attempt to intrude on Jugger's space, though he did briefly throw him an amused look. And Jugger honestly didn't mind to be graced with this look of amused affection when they met each night for sex and a cuddle.
The icks, however, were openly snickering. Jugger made sure his boyos were very aware of his serious promised to eviscerate them if they brought gossip back to the unit when their furlough was finally over.
Jugger never really caught on when the Montroc estates started becoming a regular venue for Force Nomad to visit during down time. Even Sarigar joined them regularly to catch up with his former second. Although Jugger suspected it was also to pick up tips on the corporate world which would have impact on the Legion.
For all his disappointment when the Tersling left the legion, this made Jugger chide himself for ever doubting him. Apparently, even after he'd left Force Nomad Torie was still looked out for them. It wasn't uncommon for Torie to send them messages of intelligence and warnings which turned out to have been all that stood between certain death and their survival. Unfettered by the rules and regulations of the Legion, their ex-captain was clearly able to watch their back and lend his considerable support with much more freedom.
Jugger had tried not to get roped into these visits. But it was difficult not to when the icks especially loved the natural surroundings of the Montroc estates and a chance to romp and play with Tamra's Kids. No one understood Jugger's issues over visiting Torie. They just didn't get the problems he had with his sense of masculinity.
He never dared to admit to anyone that he'd never managed to sleep in his assigned room. Somehow Jugger would always find himself quietly making his way to Torie's bedroom and slipping into his bed.
If he wasn't already awake and alert from hearing someone approach his room in the dead of the night, Torie would be rather quickly awakened by Jugger's demanding Kiss which would quickly lead to torrid sex. Jugger tried hard not to notice that the sex always started out hot, sweaty and desperate at the start of his vacation, get progressively gentler near the midpoint, then grow in urgency again when he was due to leave. No one ever dared to remark on Jugger coming to breakfast from a different wing to where his assigned room was in the morning. Not even the icks.
Jugger had tried only one more time to make a clean break with Montroc. And he only lasted three years before Tamra reminded him of her promise of castration and with the help of the icks, dragged his sorry carcass to the Montroc Estates to visit Torie and her kids. Once there, Jugger was completely flabbergasted to also be greeted by Nakhira Doomhar who was carrying a toddler who looked remarkably like Torie and her. And he couldn't begin to explain the pain he felt deep inside to consider this evidence that his lover had moved on without him.
However, cornering the Tersling later, Torie had only this to say of the son he had with the industrial spy. "Once, a long time ago, Nakhira Doomhar told me 'For your father I'd crawl across hell on my belly.'
"Should it really have surprised us that for him she would also care enough to try to give me peace of mind and ensure the continuation of the Montroc dynasty?"
Torie had a tiny sad smile on his face as he continued. "My father appreciated it. He—he liked the thought of kids on the estate. So whenever Tamra had a new baby I'd introduce them to him. He had the biggest smile on his face when I told him this one was mine.
"Nakhira gave him—gave us the greatest gift. Father—he lived long enough to hear my son call him Grandpa."
Doomhar had her own spin on the situation when she cornered him. "Don't you ever dare stay away that long again, soldier boy. You weren't here when his father died as you *should* have been."
"We did not marry. And we do not share a bed. I have my own rooms. I only offered to bear his heir to assure his father the continuation of their family. We could both sense that his father's time to depart was fast approaching.
"Do not doubt you are important to him, Jugger Grimrod. I expect you to visit more often now that Torie has truly settled down to make this his home." Nakhira purred to the Thrakite as they watched Torie play with his son. "Try to run and I'll hunt you down and drag you back myself."
"Don't play the fool, Grimrod. You're smarter than that." Nakhira nodded towards Torie as he looked up at them having sensed their eyes on him.
And in Torie's smile, a staggering revelation struck the Thrakite; that in spite of himself, Jugger had found a family; one which knew him for all his faults and flaws and didn't care one bit when they opened their arms to him in welcome. He had a true home if he really wanted it. And he did.
Jugger got up to approach a curious Torie as Nakhira called their son to her. And right in front of his fellow Legionaries, Jugger reached up to cup the Tersling's face while giving him enough space to draw back if he wanted to.
Torie didn't. His lips met Jugger's half way as he let the Thrakite gather him in his arms, while around them their friends and comrades filled the air with cheers, applause and wolf whistles. And Jugger Grimrod finally accepted the revelation that he was home.