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(W)hole Again

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Fergus couldn’t help but smirk as he entered Ian’s cabin and spied, what could only be described as, an excessively large container of oil sitting on the table beside Ian’s bed. It’s like that is it?

He had suspected as much when he read the note Ian had sent via Germaine:


Dinner at mine tonight? (Just us)


Fergus and Ian had been engaged in—whatever this was—since Ian returned from the Mohawk. Ian had needed comfort and companionship after the loss of his wife and child. Fergus had needed respite from his ever growing family and the gnawing feeling that he wasn’t worthy of them. The sex had seemed to blossom quite naturally out of their increasingly intimate friendship.

Marsali saw clearly how the men’s relationship had brought a renewed vigour to Fergus and she gratefully gave her blessing. And if she were honest with herself she didn’t mind that Fergus had another outlet for his abundant sexuality—being pregnant did get quite exhausting.

“So what’s for dinner, mon cher?” Fergus asked, giving a meaningful side-eye to Ian’s bedside table.

Ian had the courtesy to look suitably abashed. “I had a dream about ye last night that I can’t get out of my head.”

“I see. What did this dream entail?”

Fergus could see that Ian’s skin had begun flushing a bright red. Ian walked up to Fergus and whispered the nature of his dream into Fergus’s ear.

Fergus was shocked. And that was not an easy thing to accomplish. Having grown up in a Parisian brothel Fergus was quite familiar with the realms of sexual pleasure but this was one thing he had never considered. “And you want me to do that to you?”

“Aye. Please Sir,” replied Ian as seductively as possible.

Just the sound of Ian’s voice, calling him Sir, made Fergus’s cock begin to tumesce. Fergus looked at Ian, eyes heavy with lust, “Well we can certainly try.”


They began as usual. “Your safe word is buffalo,” Fergus announced.

“Thank ye Sir,” Ian responded as usual.

“Take off your clothes and get on the bed. No talking.”

Ian did as he was instructed, quickly leaving his shirt and breeches in a puddle on the floor, and crawling up onto his bed.

Fergus walked to the other side of the cabin, grabbing the coils of rope from the nail on which they hung. He strode to the bed where Ian lay waiting on his stomach. Fergus grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed, “Up!” he ordered, and Ian lifted his hips so that Fergus could place the pillow underneath.

“Hand,” Fergus commanded. And Ian stretched out his right hand to Fergus, placing it on Fergus’s wooden left hand.

Tying a person up one-handed was far from easy. The first time Fergus had tried it it had been slow and frustrating, but he had soon become competent with one-handed knots and used his teeth as necessary. He did not require any assistance.

Fergus quickly cuffed Ian’s right hand and weaved the rope through the headboard, to the other side of the bed.

“Hand.” Fergus cuffed Ian’s other hand and tied off the end of the rope on the bed post.

Fergus picked up the other coil of rope and strode to the foot of the bed. Here he paused for a moment. Usually when Fergus did this he would tie the person’s ankles tight together. He had discovered that this made it all that much tighter when he eventually took them. But tightness was not what they wanted tonight so Fergus quickly shifted gears and tied Ian’s legs in the same manner in which he had tied his hands. The result being Ian bound spread-eagle on the bed with his pale round arse raised into the air by the pillow and his pink hole bared.

“Mmmmm,” Fergus breathed, taking in the sight.

“See something ye like?” Ian asked coyly.

“What have I told you about talking?” Fergus growled. That sort of insolence could not go unpunished.

“I’m sorry Sir,” Ian blurted out with tinges of both fear and excitement evident in his voice.

Fergus grabbed the cane from its hiding spot under the bed. “You know the rules, it’s three the first time,” Fergus said while massaging Ian’s buttocks, warming up the area.

Thwack the first strike landed and Ian let out a startled squeak, squirming against his restraints.

Thwack the second strike hit a bit harder, and Fergus could see Ian wince. He paused a moment, giving Ian a chance to use his safe word if he wanted to. The pause also served to heighten Ian’s anticipation, he wouldn’t know when to expect the next strike. Fergus traced his fingers over the familiar smoothness of Ian’s reddened arse.

Thwack and the final strike landed. Ian tensed all of his muscles in response and let out a loud groan of pain mixed with pleasure.

Fergus crawled onto the bed and put his hand over the red welts sprouting on Ian’s skin and then he gently kissed each mark. “Did you learn your lesson?”

“Aye Sir,” Ian said, looking back at Fergus with a sly smile.

“Mmhmph,” said Fergus in a fair impression of his adoptive father, “I’m not convinced.” Fergus got up and grabbed one of Ian’s stockings that had been drying near the hearth. “Open your mouth.”

Fergus noted the sparkle of delight in Ian’s eyes as he put the stocking across his open mouth and tied it at the back of his head. “I know it might be a bit hard to say your safe word with your mouth like that, so snap your fingers if you want me to stop.” Ian nodded.

Fergus go onto the bed again, straddling Ian’s bare back. He bent down and put his mouth on the side of Ian’s neck, delicately scraping his teeth against the sensitive skin. “Now we can finally get on to making your dreams come true,” Fergus said softly into Ian’s ear. A low “mmmm” of pleasure came out around the gag.

Fergus gently kissed Ian’s shoulders, savouring the manly smell of his skin. He slowly kissed his way down Ian’s spine, tracing each vertebra with his tongue. When he reached the cleft of Ian’s arse Fergus lifted his head and gently bit the top of one cheek before placing a light kiss on Ian's hole. As he did so Ian let out a moan and began rubbing his hard prick against the pillow under his hips.

“Ah! None of that,” Fergus barked, “You don’t want me to get the cane back out do you?”

Ian seemed to ponder that for a moment and then abruptly stilled his movements.

“Good,” said Fergus, “then I can get on with my business.”

Fergus returned his mouth to Ian’s buttocks, slowly licking his way down the crack. His tongue gave and experimental probe of Ian’s sphincter and Ian moaned through his gag. Ian had always loved having his hole played with. With Ian’s moans of encouragement Fergus went about thoroughly eating Ian’s arse, his wet tongue circling the outside ring and hungrily probing deeper. Fergus grabbed for the oil on the bedside table and slicked his fingers, slowly pushing his index into Ian as he used his mouth to suckle on Ian’s balls. Ian continued his moans of encouragement and Fergus could feel Ian’s hole opening for him. He slipped the second finger in and soon after a third, Ian reacted loudly, momentarily clenching on Fergus’s fingers.

“We’re not even half way there, mon cher,” Fergus said, “are you sure you’re up for this?”

Ian nodded enthusiastically and Fergus could feel Ian relax around his fingers. On one of their usual evenings together this would be the time when Fergus would replace his fingers with his cock. Fergus could feel his hard prick twitch at the idea. But that wasn’t the plan for this evening, at least not yet.

Fergus continued with his hand, adding his pinky, stretching Ian out and pushing his fingers inwards until he could add his thumb. At this point Fergus was entering new territory with Ian and he stilled for a moment until he could feel that Ian’s insides had adjusted to his presence. Fergus briefly removed his hand in order to liberally reapply the oil and the sight of Ian’s gapping hole, waiting for him, was breathtaking. Fergus continued, slowly pushing more of his hand into Ian, and waiting for him when necessary, until his hand was in up to his knuckles. Fergus made some quick mental measurements, “I think you are ready, mon cher.”

Ian looked back at Fergus with wild lust and slight apprehension as Fergus removed his wooden hand and began oiling the flesh underneath. Fergus had never really thought about his stump in a sexual context before, mostly he hid it for fear of repulsing others. He saw his stump as a burden, as something that prevented him from providing for his family in the way he thought he should be able to. But seeing this man stretched out before him begging for it, brought a joy to Fergus’s heart that he hadn’t known he had been missing.

All the while maintaining eye contact with Ian, Fergus began to push his blunt arm against Ian’s hole. Ian’s hole had contracted back a bit while Fergus had been removing his hand so there was some resistance. He could see Ian’s back moving as he took in deep breaths, trying to relax himself.

Suddenly the resistance gave way and Fergus’s arm slipped into Ian. Ian let out the loudest moan of the night. The look on Ian’s face could have been one of intense pleasure or intense pain.

“Are you alright, mon cher? Do you want me to take it out?” Fergus asked hurriedly.

Ian shook his head and closed his eyes in a manor that could only denote bliss.

With the assurance that Ian was ok Fergus could finally pay attention to his own feelings. Fergus has succeeded in getting about two inches of his stump into Ian’s rectum and Ian’s sphincter was tight around his arm. The sensation was magnificent, the feeling of Ian’s insides against the sensitive skin of his stump was like nothing he had ever felt before. He could feel his cock leaking pre-cum.

After a moment’s deep breathing on both sides. Fergus asked, “Do you want me to fuck you with it, mon cher?” Ian moaned enthusiastically. Fergus began to twist his arm in and out, slowly at first and then faster and harder.

Ian started making the noises Fergus knew always preceded his climax. Fergus reached under Ian and grabbed his cock. It didn’t take long, in three pumps Ian came, his seed sinking into the pillow.

Fergus wasn’t long for it either, the novel sensation on his stump, the view of Ian’s arse swallowing his arm, and the feeling of being so completely seen and accepted by this man overcame him. He removed his arm from inside Ian and tore at his laces, pulling out his cock just in time to empty himself into Ian’s still gaping hole and collapse onto Ian’s back.

Fergus gave himself a few joyfully exhausted breaths there before he got up and attended to Ian.


First he removed the gag and massaged Ian’s jaw and neck. Ian was as of yet still too spent to speak. Fergus removed the other restraints, massaging the bound limbs as he released them. He then inspected Ian’s arse. There was no bleeding from the canning or their anal adventure, but there was a good deal of Fergus’s seed around Ian’s hole. Fergus took the discarded gag/stocking and wiped it up. He then got onto the bed beside Ian, rolling him onto his side so Fergus could spoon him.

They laid like that for some time, with Fergus placing gentle kisses on the back of Ian’s neck.

“Thank ye,” Ian said quietly.

“No mon cher, thank you, you knew exactly what I needed.”