"The Party That Thomas Held."

By: A Spoony Bard.

Rating: R.

Disclaimer: Blah.

Ooh! Looky! Le deuxieme! Sorry, it's just I've never written anything in chapters... Well, written it and finished it.... Let's hope I can finish this one! To make up for lack of interesting things in the first chapter, this chapter... Well, read on…

…There be incest in this 'ere part, my lubbies…

Characters:

Seguchi Tohma: Mr. Thomas Songfield; 32; Manager of the Bank of England, London.

Seguchi Mika: Mrs. Marie Songfield; 30; Wife of Mr. Thomas Songfield.

Yuki Eiri: Mr. Edward York; 22; Famous newspaper columnist for "The Times".

Uesugi Tatsuha: William Weir; 16; Public schoolboy at the "King's Public School for Boys".

Sakuma Ryuichi: Mr. Robert Sanders; 32; Headmaster of the "King's Public School for Boys".

K: Claude Winchester; 30; Ex-army corporal and Deputy Headmaster at the "King's Public School for Boys".

Fujisaki Suguru: Frederick Selsters; 16; Public schoolboy at the "King's Public School for Boys".

Shindo Shuichi: Simon Shorte; 19; Domestic servant at "The Wind Archer".

Nakano Hiroshi: Henry Narborough; 19; Stable-hand at "The Wind Archer".

Sakano: (Mr.) Salisbury; 30; Butler at "The Wind Archer".

Usami Ayaka: Anna Summers; 17; Domestic servant at "The Wind Archer".

Ukai Noriko: Ms. Noémie Uberwells; 28; Cook at "The Wind Archer".

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Chapter Two: Kiss me, Yorky...

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"Darn, it's raining. Again. When will this blasted country have some sun in the summertime?!"

"When you get your own house, perhaps? And leave me alone, perhaps? And start to act your age, perhaps?" A tall, handsome man crossed the room to reach a large, oaken bookcase. His slender hands reached to pick out one of the old-looking books, flipping through the pages nonchalantly before coming to the one he needed. Gracefully slowly, he shuffled back to his desk and sat down in the comfortably well-worn chair. A keen pair of jet-black eyes watched his every fluid move from the comfy, cushioned mahogany sofa.

"Ouch! That really stung, dearest brother!"

"Keep quiet, Boy. I'm working." Taking a pair of spectacles from his bureau and putting them on, the young adult scowled as he read over the words printed on the paper.

"Oh, Edward! You're no fun! I come home for the holidays, to keep you company, when I could just have easily have gone to Marie! Now, all we do is sit in your drawing room, while I talk and you...well, I don't know what you do..." The teenager sighed heavily as he heard the sound of a match being struck, signifying that his brother had lit up another cigarette. "Well, you smoke. That's what you do. Smoke. Why won't you talk to me?"

"Because my mouth is full. It's rude to talk when one's mouth is full. Stop talking to me, so I don't have to be rude by answering you." Edward muttered around the tobacco-packed cylinder in his mouth. His unusually coloured eyes scanned the text of his dictionary one more time, before he picked up the pen beside him, dipped it in the inkwell and began to write. Onyx eyes as dark as the writing liquid narrowed in annoyance until the schoolboy smirked; a smirk that reached the jet stones and polished them to a lewd sort of shine.

"I'm more than sure you'd 'talk' to me, if my mouth was full..."

The scratching stopped momentarily and ingots of a precious tincture cautiously glanced sideways. The young boy saw the furtive reaction and grinned.

"I beg your pardon?" Pleased that he had finally got his brother's attention, William got up from the expensive seat.

"I mean... Would you talk to me if I were to take that burning cylinder of a cigarette of yours, put it in my mouth and smoke it until there was nothing but smouldering ash left?" A boyishly smooth hand rested on a shoulder partly covered by Edward's burgundy waistcoat. Edward was rather taken back at his brother's unexpected gesture. He turned his upper body to get the troublesome sixteen year-old fully into his sight. Peripheral vision was all well and good, but when creatures as mischievous as William Weir were in one's presence, a full eye was best.

"I'd tell you to give it back before you got your dirty, little mouth around it." The newspaper columnist replied coolly. He watched the grin on his sibling's face stretch to ridiculous means; a psychotic glint reflecting on the fathomless wells of sable water.

"Why? Because I could smoke it with more class than you ever could?"

"No, because men's cigarettes are for men. Not for little boys, like you." And to emphasise his point, Edward blew a meagre quantity of the smoke into William's face, hoping that the pesky yob would allow him some peace. It didn't seem to work, as the public schoolboy's presence became more imminent; more intimate. The raven-haired young man brought his hand down from the strong, broad shoulder and draped his ecru-covered arm across the defined upper torso, palm flat and fingers splayed across a section of flank.

"Well, if I can't have your cigarette, perhaps a thick, long, refined Gentleman's cigar is on offer?"

"It most certainly is not."

Edward was, largely, of a grumpy but collected mien, yet every time his laddish relative exhibited such odd behaviour as openly showing affection for the misanthropic columnist, Edward couldn't help but feel a little nervous. But only a little. The emotion that ran away with first place's blue rosette before the other competitors had even crossed the line, was Irritation.

"There are...ways to make someone talk, you know, Yorky." William mumbled sensually against his brother's sensitive ear, taunting him into producing a tiny shudder.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?"

"Ummm... Several?" Edward took the time to relocate the hormonal boy's twitching hand to somewhere well away from his body, only to have it slip out of his grasp and creep back.

"Yes. Correct. Now, how many times have you listened?" What had been gripping a pen was now sporting a convulsing fist. The blond man inhaled sharply as downy strands of coal-dust brushed against his pale, flawless neck; releasing the air along with pent-up distress.

"Hmm... All of the time, dear brother. All of the time. 'Obeying'... Now, that's a different matter." William smiled shark-like against the warm, lightly-scented skin; a pink hint of tongue sneaking out to taste the surface.

"Damnit, William, what are you up to?"

"Depends on what you're up to."

"Shut up!"

"Make me." William replied, holding back his laughter at his older sibling's mounting rage.

"What do you want from me?!" The blond stiffened at the all-too-amourous fondling that was taking place over his abdomen. It also worried him greatly that another wrongly inquisitive limb was wandering dangerously lower down. "William Weir, I'm ordering you to cease this nonsense immediately, or I'll throw you out of this house forever and you can go crying to our so-called father." Edward barked, though the spiny tone was looked over.

"I don't think father would be too pleased to hear about what happened yesterday evening..." The devious teenager cooed in a singsong voice, all the while continuing his bizarrely arousing caresses.

"That was an accident. And accident!"

"Yes. A drunken accident, indeed. But some accidents are just waiting to happen, aren't they?" The southward-bound creeper stopped just short of its final goal. Edward forced himself to peer down at the fingers gently drumming at the buttons on his trousers.

"I was not drunk! …And even if I was, are you implying that I would have done the same if I wasn't under the influence of alcohol?" He replied, never taking his terrified sight from the impatiently waiting digits.

"Oh no. You might have wanted to, but I know you have a little more reserve than that..." Edward was made powerless by sheer doubt of the reality of the situation, and watched in morbidly slow motion as the nimble extremities quickly undid the fastenings and slipped inside of the woollen garment.  

"Aaaa-haaaa-ha! No! William! Stop this, now!" Edward wriggled and writhed uncomfortably, as he struggled in vain, to prevent irritating relative from groping him further.

"Why?" William whispered; his warm breath carrying the words around the shell of the pinkening auricle. The aggressor could feel his brother's body tensing up against his touch and the resistance only proved to inflame him more. The hand that had been violating the supple stomach shifted to start work upon the removal of the obstructing waistcoat and shirt.

"Because... Because..." The poor, harassed blond was struggling to think; his mind fogged by the sensations of the forbidden touches. Touches that, no matter how prohibited, were still as arousing as those that were permitted. Pale blinds shut out the ignominious early morning sun, as the mischievous one made contact with his flesh. Edward's back arched felinely and William grinned insanely.

"Because?" He prompted

"Because you're my brother, you idiot." Willowy thighs clamped together, effectively trapping the roving hand between them. A nasty popping of the knuckles, a squeak of surprise and a few muttered cursings was all it took for the uninvited ghost to depart. Exhaling strongly, the scent of alleviation heavy in the air, Edward got up from his chair and did the only thing a man who had been in such a compromising position could, should and would do.

He cuffed young William hard about the head.

"Ow! What was that for, you big monster?!" Palms that had made licentious acquaintance with Edward's private area, were now shielding a delicate skull from the merciless beating. Golden eyes widened; disbelief fuelling the fire that burned behind them.

"What was that for? What was that for?! You've just molested me in places I could have you arrested for, and you ask me why I hit you?! You cretinous child, I would have thought that was obvious!" Edward swiftly began to do up his clothing.

"I didn't hit you when you kissed me yesterday evening." The playfully sly smirk returned to William's rosy lips. "Yes... The evening past. Do you remember? Or were you too drunk?"

"That was an accident! I fell!" A finely shaped, black eyebrow arched in scepticism.

"Onto my mouth?"

"Alright, it was dark. I thought you were my maid!"

"You have a maid named 'William... Oh, William...'?" The blond was running out of pathetic excuses and was, therefore, positively seething. He wasn't about to admit that a few glasses of port could make him tipsy enough to advance on his brother, of all people.

"Fine! FINE! I was... I was..."

Just as Edward was stuttering for a final miserable justification, before his brother took leave of his senses once more and decided to finish what he had begun, the doorbell started ringing.

"Oh! The doorbell's ringing. I'd better go and see who it is. It could be...someone important. Like...like... The editor! Yes, the editor." Edward narrowed his eyes at the troublesome child. "Stay here and don't move or I'll hurt you. Seriously." Every muscle in the twenty-two year old body was geared up to run and escape the mental imbalance of his youngest sibling. Yet, no matter how disturbingly forceful the sexual wrath of his brother was, Edward was a self-mindful creature and could muster little more than a brisk walk without damaging his pride. After deciding upon a pace that was conservatively quick, the wiry male strode towards the door...

...Only to have the way barred by an overly-suave and smug-looking William.

"Let your 'Maid' get it."

"She's on holiday." Edward ground out through gritted teeth.

"Are you sure she's a she? I mean, 'William' doesn't sound like a very feminine name... 'William... Oh, William...' doesn't sound particularly girlish, either..."

"If you don't move out of the way, you'll be more girlish than you care to disclose, my boy."

"I'm your boy now, am I? Well, things certainly have become interesting today!" Seeing that his threats had simply brought more taunts from the schoolboy's mouth, Edward concluded that there was only one option left: brute force. Using his superior height and weight, and the age-old art of surprise, one splenetic journalist was able to surpass the irksome adolescent.

Unfortunately, the chiming served only as a means of escape from the figurative corner the proud lion was trapped in, as whoever was at the door, departed on the writer's arrival. Oh, bitter, ironic cliché.

Stressed beyond belief, the renowned Mr. York turned back to his drawing room and the inescapable jibes of the last of the Weir clan.

"Nobody there?"

"Evidently." Feeling strangely drained, the bespectacled blond collapsed down unceremoniously onto his sofa. William wandered over and threw himself across his brother's lap; stretching his body in a manner akin to a lazy panther, before settling his head on a slim, toned thigh. "That hurt, you moron. My poor being's not used to such 'amorous' onslaughts."

"But Edward! You're twenty-two!"

"I didn't mean it like that! You're sixteen and you're heavy. I've never had such a heavy sixteen year old throw themselves upon my lap like that!"

"I don't suppose you've ever had a heavy sixteen year old. In all respects." An errant hand ran along the length of a lissome calf; its owner delighting in the nihilism of his new sport: Edward-baiting.

"And I suppose you think you can remedy that?" The badgered male asked tiredly.

"No sweeter remedy than one of Father's elixirs."

"You forget that Father's a quack. What can all of those things amount to…? Potions and alchemy, indeed… They should have died with the 17th century…" Edward York removed his silver frames and rubbed at his face as if the action would erase all memory of what had transpired, then take him back to the time he woke up this morning so he could avoid his bothersome brother like the plague. "Listen, what do I have to do to get you to out of this mood?" Seeing the perverse gleam bouncing off of the ebony like a destructive ball, Edward thought it best to rephrase his question, lest he regret not doing so later.

"That is, what must I do to make you behave?"

"I just want to have your attention. All of it. It's not easy being stuck indoors due to bad weather with someone who just ignores you all of the time." The attractive, fair-headed man considered it for awhile. A few days ago, he had received an invitation from an associate of his- a Mr. Thomas Songfield- inviting York to spend a few days with him and Marie at their rural estate. At first, he wasn't particularly interested in passing his time with the 'Edward-obsessives' but now, it seemed like the perfect way to pacify his fired-up relative.

"Okay, you win... Will you stop this absurd behaviour if I take you on holiday? Or will I have to have you committed?"

"Holiday?!" William hadn't been hoping for this much. His anti-social brother rarely showed any sign of being amiable and whenever Edward offered to entertain, it was most certainly an event worthy of reporting in a newspaper.

"Yes, a holiday. Songfield invited me down to that posh, 'Tallyho!' place he has in Somerset. I wasn't going to go but if it will shut you up and keep you from humping my leg, or arm, or any other body part like a dog in heat, I'll do almost anything." Childish excitement replaced the incestuous desire within William and brought definite relief to the bargaining writer.

"Oh, this is all jolly good! A proper vacation! I was just expecting a quick roll in the hay or two, but this is a whole crown better!"

"A what?! William?!" The one-so-named rapidly moved off of his temporary resting place, standing up and brushing the creases out of his trousers.

"I'm going on holiday! To Somerset! And I don't have to pay a single penny! Bravo, me!" The lively boy began dancing, what could only be described as a drunken waltz with an imaginary partner.

"Stupid, uncultured boy... It seems I'm going to have to teach you how to dance properly, as well... The shame you'd bring at any formal gatherings…" Edward muttered, his head throbbing with the impending stampede of a headache.

"You're going to teach me how to dance, too?! This is the best suspension I've ever HAD!"

"Suspension?! You've always told me they were school holidays! William?!" Ignoring the angry questions coming from the vicinity of the sofa, an impish lad laughed and skidded out of the door and into the hall.

"Wait until I tell my boyfriends back at school! They'll be so jealous that I won't be able to walk straight for MONTHS!" He called. Will stood in the hallway, singing a rude and raucous song, stamping his feet and breaking into riotous fits of laughter, until the blond owner appeared outside of the study.

"Boyfriends?! William?!" Another fiendish chuckle before the child blew a kiss to his older brother as he hightailed and hot-pantsed it up the staircase.

"Oh boy, this is going to be GREAT! I'll get packing right away! We can leave tomorrow! Thanks a million, Yorky! I love you and you can have as many drunken kisses as you desire when I'm finished!"

The slam of a bedroom door echoed throughout the premises.

...A blink of horrified shards of hazel...

And finally, everything was registered and processed, leaving the product nicely wrapped up on Edward's tongue.

"WILLIAAAAM!!!"

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And there we have the second part. I know that "William" sounds nothing like "Tatsuha", but "William" has that mischievous, shoutable quality to it. Besides, I couldn't think of any decent, upper-middle class/lower-upper class, nineteenth century names and I was NOT going to call him "Tarquin".

...So, it's adieu once more and I'll see you (maybe?) in part three for the last invitation!