It was ironic that Alec began to play such a carefree song, for as the notes permeated the room, John began to feel anything but. The muscles in his arms grew tense, pulling taut and knotting his hands up into fists. His teeth ground together behind his lips. He realized in some part of his brain, the rational part that was currently hiding in fear from the drunken part, that he had never felt quite so angry. It was completely uncalled for and irrational, not to mention disturbing. The aggressive part of his personality was far more inhibited than the sexual part ever was, so he found himself incapable of doing much for a long moment other than watching as Henry stepped up behind Charlie, as his familiar hand ran over the initiate's neck as if he were some fond pet. The slap to Charlie's rear end reverberated in John's ears even louder than the piano. Charlie's hushed declaration did nothing for John's mood. When those eyelashes fluttered, his sympathy was gone. He wanted to reach out and rip those stupid eyelashes off of Charlie's face. This wasn't funny anymore. The fact that he was taking it in such an easy, open way, even enjoying it, somehow reflected poorly on him in Saville's well-born eyes.
And still John did nothing, feeling the tightness constrict his breath out of his chest, but not a single shred of muscle would allow him to move. John Saville had never hit or otherwised pained another human being in his life. He was a good boy.
But right now he just wanted to tie Charlie's throat into a knot.
When Charlie brought the glasses of punch over, John took two out of his hands; one meant for him and one of the others meant for Henry. He downed them both in rapid fashion, first chugging the one, a rivulet of red trailing down his chin, then the other. When the liberal dousing of alcohol hit his stomach it churned ominously, but he ignored it and continued right on like a bull in a china shop, lurching forward and crowding Charlie out of the way.
"Ah!" he gasped, finally taking a breath after such a long drag of alcohol. He stuck the empty glasses into Charlie's hands without looking at him. "I have an even better idea."
John leaned into Henry once more, smiling up at him with lavish affection. His arms went into the interior of Henry's jacket, pulling tight around his waist from the inside. He licked his lips clean of all remains of the drink and snuggled his face into Henry's neck, soft puffs of his breath settling in fine clouds against his friend's jaw. He stood slightly offset from Henry, one foot in between Henry's and the other outside it, but chest pressed flush to his friend's in a deep embrace. He felt infinitely better this way, the rhythm of Henry's breath rocking him like a boat on the ocean, the scent of his cigar still rich on his clothes and hair. It brought back newly minted memories.
"Let's flip a coin. Heads or tails?" he purred in a mossy, sensual voice he had never before used in public. "Heads, we cut off his head. Tails, we cut off his..." A narrow look was shot at Charlie, lips curved darkly. "...tail."