Jez loses his virginity to some guy he met in a club. Andy or Alex or Aaron, maybe—he's forgotten before they even make it into the bathroom stall. It's not like it matters. If the name doesn't start with a D, Jez doesn't want it falling from his lips in the throws of pleasure. He thinks, Dandy, Dalex, Daaron, but none of them have the right ring to them.
It's not slow or romantic or even particularly pleasant, just the opposite in fact. Andy-Alex-maybe-Aaron has him face first up against the wall as soon as the door is shut; Jez doesn't even know if it's locked, doesn't care. His cheek feels like it's going to bruise where it smacked the cold concrete and one of the buttons pops off of his over shirt before it's given up as a lost cause (Jez watches it bounce and roll across the dirty tile, and wonders what a particularly disgusting greenish stain near the toilet is from, as his pants are pulled forcefully down around his knees). There's no kissing or touching or words exchanged, just a quick thrust, and it is possibly the most painful thing Jez has ever experienced with the exception of that time he dislocated his shoulder when he was six. The guy behind him doesn't give him so much as a second to adjust, just starts rutting into him like his life depends on it, and Jez is just about to tell him to stop, please, he doesn't like it when an arm slips around his waist and a meaty hand starts tugging him back to hardness.
It's not so bad if he focuses on the hand on his dick and not the cock in his ass. So he slides one of his forearms up between his face and the bathroom wall and bites into his wrist, and rides out the sharp spikes of pain from his rear end and pleasure from his groin without so much as a single noise. Not a single noise, not even when he comes, and Danny wells up in his throat and he has to bite down so hard that he tastes blood to keep from letting it slip out. It's not the best orgasm of his life, but hey, it doesn't suck. And he doesn't think about how it would have been better with musician's hands on him, strong and callused (and he certainly doesn't think about anything as cheesy as what it would be like to be played, like he's seen Danny play guitar sometimes, eyes closed, brow furrowed in concentration, hands like fucking magic on the strings).
The guy finishes, finally, what seems like ages after Jez did. He pulls out and Jez hears a zipper, and then the door opening and closing, without so much as a word of acknowledgment for what they just did. Leaning against the bathroom wall, only the dull ache of his ass left now that the pleasure is gone, eyes clenched shut and feeling dirtier than he ever has, Jez swears to himself that he will never have meaningless sex with a guy in a club bathroom again. He will go straight before he does that again.
After reaching that conclusion he pulls his pants up, zips up, and it occurs to him that he wasn't paying enough attention to know whether Andy-Alex-whatever used a condom or not. There's a flash of panic (what if he gets AIDS what if he dies before he ever makes it to the big screen what if he can't dance what if what if what if) but he puts it off, he'll go get tested and that will be that, and the guy probably used a condom anyways.
Techno greets him when he shoulders out of the bathroom, and so does BB, whose face goes from vaguely concerned to beaming immediately. "Was wondering where you got to," he yells over the noise, slinging an arm casually around Jez's shoulders and dragging him through the crowd.
Jez is glad that the smell of too many people packed into too little space over writes the smell of sex that he knows clings to him, and casually rolls down the cuff of his sleeve so that it covers the bite marks on his wrist, because there are things that even best friends don't need to know about. Like the fact that angelic faced, good boy Jez lost his virginity in a bathroom stall at a club to a man whose name he can't even remember, all the while imagining it was someone—his eyes catch on a shape at the table they're heading towards, and he says, "Danny," ignores the way his voice hitches, paints on a smile, flickers his gaze away from Claudine hanging onto the other boy's arm—all the while imagining it was someone else, someone out of his reach.