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“Jesus, this place is a shithole,” Will says. “Christ. We could probably sue the holiday company, you know.” He hasn’t shut up since they got through the door, non-stop bitching, and it’s getting seriously fucking annoying. “Is it even legal to let people stay in places like this?”
Will’s probably only ever stayed in fucking five star hotel resorts before or something, Jay thinks. The posh prick. “Alright, Briefcase,” he says. “Get over yourself.”
“It’s not that bad, Will,” Simon says. It’s a blatant lie, but that’s Simon, placating as ever. “At least this way we’ve saved money for going out.”
It’s a polite way of saying none of them would have been able to afford anything better anyway. It’d be a shit holiday if they had nice rooms and no means to do anything else. Will sighs again, as though he just can’t get over the turns his life has taken. “We won’t be able to go anywhere at all if we contract rabies,” he says. “I suppose you’ve got a point, though.”
Neil drops his bag unceremoniously in the middle of the room. The floor creaks worryingly. Will pulls a face, which the rest of them pointedly ignore. “I reckon it’s alright, you know.”
“You would,” Jay says, which means nothing, and then adds, “S’true though. We wouldn’t want a nice place anyway, not with all the fucking carnage we’re gonna cause when we bring the party back to ours.”
Will snorts. “Because that’s bound to happen.”
Jay ignores him. “It’s a lads’ holiday. It’s meant to be a bit shit, innit?”
“Exactly.” Neil grins, and Jay grins back at him, and then regrets the moment of solidarity when Neil goes and calls shotgun on the bedroom like a right sneaky bastard.
Jay loves shots. Jay loves alcohol, really, and finally being able to buy his own alcohol, and being in a bar on fucking holiday with his crazy best mates with a fit bird waiting outside for him. He hopes the wait is making her more up for it. That’s how it’s working for him, anyway.
“Oh yes, Jay,” Will says, “keep calling girls birds, I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”
“More than they appreciate you,” Jay mutters behind his next shot. Will’s got a point, probably, and Jay would listen if he didn’t manage to sound so patronising all the time.
Neil laughs. “Good one.”
“Do you think they really get offended?” Simon asks, turning to Will, wide-eyed. “Like – offended, really?” He looks worried, as though he’s been going around calling Carli a bird to her face or something, but even Simon isn’t that stupid.
Jay thinks Simon really needs to get over this Carli thing, and soon. Like a year ago, maybe. “We need to find Simon a bird out here,” he says. He has to concentrate a little bit too much to get the words out clearly. “Pussy Patrol, day one, let’s just – fuckin’ do it.” He holds up his next shot, half of it spilling over onto his fingers as they all clink the glasses together. He knocks back what’s left of it anyway. “Day one. Make it a decent fucking competition, lads, I don’t wanna steamroll you.”
If getting with girls was a competition, Jay would probably be losing, he has to admit, but then it doesn’t matter all that much when everyone else is just as shit as he is. Neil almost gets kidnapped by two old dinosaurs on the dance floor, but Jay is a good friend. He rescues him. It’s not cock blocking if they’re old enough to be your nan.
“It’s a lads’ holiday anyway,” Jay mutters, swaying out into the road for a moment as the pavement tilts under his feet. “Don’t need fucking – girls getting in the way and ruining everything.”
Simon laughs. “Just ‘cause that girl wasn’t interested.”
“She was like, well interested, proper,” Jay mumbles. His words keep dicking around on him. “She wasn’t that fit anyway.”
“She was seriously fit, mate,” Neil says apologetically.
“Not like your girls,” Will sniggers. Jay laughs and ends up stumbling out into the road again. “What were you thinking, Neil?”
“They were well up for it,” Neil says. “I could’ve been in there.”
“You’re disgusting, Neil.”
“Skank,” Jay agrees, and the rest of the stagger home is mostly a blur of the hot weather and laughter with the relief of a bed to collapse into waiting for him.
He wakes in the room Neil had claimed for himself, squashed up along the side of the tiny bed, Neil sprawled out next to him, snoring lightly, their fingers brushing over the sheets. He’d move, but he’s hung over as shit. He closes his eyes against the invasion of the sun.
The night’s still fucking young, which is why Will and Simon are both pathetic for going to bed already, especially since for them, bed is the main room. “We should’ve stayed out.”
Neil nods. They’re both sitting on the bed, passing a dangerously cheap bottle of vodka back and forth between them. “Found some more girls or something.”
“We probably would have more luck without Briefcase,” Jay muses. “He can’t talk ‘em away then.”
“Yeah.” Neil laughs. “But, like, Jay. He did get with Charlotte.”
“If it wasn’t a joke,” Jay mutters. He’s sure, mostly, that it wasn’t, but that whole thing still makes no fucking sense. “Life’s so fucking unfair.”
“We’ll find some girls out here soon,” Neil says. Jay wishes he could be as self-assured as Neil always seems to be. Past evidence suggest they’re not going to find any girls, except maybe ones who will beat them up or something, or inexplicably get off with Will.
“Yeah, but Neil, you’ve got a girlfriend haven’t you?” Jay points out as the thought occurs to him. He holds the vodka bottle out of Neil’s reach and shakes a clumsy finger at him. Neil’s closer than he thought; he almost pokes his eye out.
“Yeah, but – I mean, not really, but I guess,” Neil says. Jay frowns, trying to sort through all that. “It’s not cheating if you don’t kiss anyway, is it?”
“Right, yeah. Of course,” Jay says, even if he wouldn’t have said that himself. He wouldn’t risk it, really, if he had somebody, but then if he got as much pussy as Neil, maybe he actually would. He nods quickly. “Obviously. Not those fucking skeletons from yesterday though.”
“Skeletons,” Neil repeats, chuckling. “I was pissed, though.”
“Pissed, not blind,” Jay says. He gulps down some more vodka. It’s still fucking disgusting, but the more he drinks, the less it matters that they’re drinking it neat and disgusting. “They’d die of a heart attack while you were shagging them, I reckon.”
“Wouldn’t shag them,” Neil says.
“Yeah? Then what?”
“Bit of fingering, probably.” Neil shrugs. “Just for the action. Like practice, yeah?”
“Course,” Jay says, as though he’s had any practice at it at all himself. He’s got the worst luck, that’s all it is. It’s got to change soon. That’s what this holiday is about. One last adventure before Will and Simon piss off to uni: booze, sun, sand, and fucking girls. He zones out for a few seconds just thinking about it. Over here, the girls he sees wear short skirts all the time. It’d be easy – quick and subtle, even, at least until she came around his fingers, and that would make it worth the risk anyway. He barely registers it when Neil finally yanks the bottle off of him.
“Practice makes perfect,” Neil chirps, and they both wind up falling asleep soon after that, neither of them bothering to move from the bed. Jay would feel a bit weird about it, maybe, sharing a bed with his best friend now that he’s sort of turned on, but it’s just Neil. Sleepovers with Neil are standard, and they grew up together. Inconvenient boners are standard too.
Jay spends the whole day sleeping off the past few nights, face pressed into the pillows, groaning every time someone tries to talk to him. It’s not exactly making the most of the holiday, but he’s not bothered about sight-seeing anyway, and it means he’s ready and well up for it when they get ready to hit the town again that night. He splashes on too much aftershave, pretends it’s deliberate.
For once, Neil’s not the only one who has a bit of success with the girls. They find a group and spend most of the night dancing with them. Jay drinks too much again and lets the music thud through him, pretending he knows what he’s doing while he dances, pretending he doesn’t mind when the girl he’s with keeps slapping his hands away whenever he drops them down from her hips to her arse.
She’s got a nice arse. It’s a shame, but he doesn’t push it.
Unsurprisingly, they end up going back alone, just the four of them as ever. The girls wave them off with giggles and shouts of laughter, heading off to another club that won’t even let them through the door, and they’re left to stumble back to the hotel all over again, Will mumbling about how it doesn’t even deserve to given that status.
“It’s fucking ridiculous,” Jay sighs, flopping back against the pillows back in bed. “I’m well horny.”
“I know, mate,” Neil says. He nods feelingly. “I thought the girls out here would be different, but it’s just like being at home but with sunburn.”
Jay snorts. They’re all varying shades of pink by now, just half a week or so into the holiday, except for Will and his obsession with factor 50 sun cream and regular reapplications. “Sunburn’s probably not helping with the birds.” He stretches out. He really is sort of horny, just from dancing for an hour or so with a girl pressed up close to him. It’d be pathetic, but it’s been a long time since Jay’s had any action, and he’s on holiday and sharing a bed with Neil. It’s been days since he’s even managed a cheeky wank.
“Why don’t you wank in the bathroom?” Neil asks, and Jay blinks as he realises he’s been rambling out loud the whole time.
“That bathroom’s fucking rank,” Jay says. “It stinks, it’d put me right off.”
“You could wank in here,” Neil says. “I wouldn’t look or anything. But it still might be a bit gay.”
Jay really is a bit too drunk, which is really the only reason Neil’s fucked up logic is making sense to him too now. “It wouldn’t be,” he says slowly, “if you didn’t look. It’s like you said. Not cheating if it’s not kissing. Not gay if you don’t, like. Touch.” He pulls a face at the thought of touching Neil, half-relieved and a little bit offended when Neil twists his face in distaste right back at him.
“Okay,” Neil says. His voice is soft, like for once he’s actually concerned about Will and Jay overhearing them from the next room. Jay can see why. “So.”
“So,” Jay says. “Yeah.”
The thing is, logically, Neil’s right, and it shouldn’t be that weird at all. Jay closes his eyes as he touches himself, curling his fingers tight around his dick and stroking with a steady speed, ready to get down to business, not wanting to draw this out any longer than he has to. He’s wanked plenty of times before with porn in the background. He likes lesbian porn best, normally, but he’s watched a whole lot where it’s a guy fucking a girl – he’s used to the odd grunt and low, distinctly male hitch of breath mixing in with his own. He spits into his hand after a couple of seconds and tries not to acknowledge it as he hears Neil do the same next to him, like Jay doing it reminded him. His hand moves more easily, a wet slide now, and it’s not just from his spit.
But the thing is – the thing is, it feels more like sex than anything Jay has ever done before. He’s touching himself, and it feels the same as ever, but each time he hears Neil make a rough noise from beside him his hips twitch up into his fist and he has to bite at his own lip to keep himself quiet. When he pauses for just a second, he can hear the slick noise of Neil’s hand moving. It makes something swoop down low in his stomach, hot and new and exciting. It feels just like the first time he ever touched a girl’s tits, just like it does every time Neil tells him another story about another girl he’s fingered. He keeps his eyes shut tight.
He doesn’t even know how long it’s been when Neil gasps out, “Are you nearly done?”
“Fuck off,” Jay mutters, twisting his wrist as he speaks and ending the words with a stuttering groan. “Don’t speak, fuck.” He finds himself turning towards Neil without meaning to, tilting towards the heat of another body, the sound and smell and presence of someone else in bed with him.
When his eyes flicker open, he’s shocked to find Neil looking right at him, even closer than Jay had thought before. It sends a jolt right through him, liquid and molten. Neil’s cheeks are flushed and he’s pulling in sharp breaths through an open mouth, eyes roaming down between Jay’s legs and then flicking back up to his face. Lingering on his mouth.
Neil mumbles, “Jay.”
“Fuck,” Jay grunts, and they’re close enough – they could – except they can’t, but he can see – and then his hips jerk up and he’s coming in hot pulses over his own fist, rolling just enough so he can press his face into his pillow and bite down hard, keep himself quiet as his toes curl and he shakes through it.
He listens to Neil come a few moments later, and when he opens his eyes again, Neil’s still staring.
Jay wakes up hung over, again, an ache behind his eyes and his throat dry and scratchy. He feels like shit, but the sun is coming in through the window and feels pleasantly warm and settling, and he’s comfortable, stretched out across the mattress with Neil tucked in behind him, his arm loose over Jay’s waist.
Which – shit. It’s not gay if there’s no touching, Jay thinks, and thinks about getting up or moving away. His head throbs and he decides against it. This is okay, actually. Fucking embarrassing, if Will or Simon happened to walk in for whatever reason, but otherwise okay.
When he feels Neil stir behind him, Jay rolls over without thinking about it, watching Neil’s eyes blink open and his mouth stretch into a wide yawn. He gets hit with some pretty rank morning breath. “Mornin’, wanker,” Jay says. It’s a standard wake up greeting.
“Morning,” Neil replies, still yawning. “Alright?”
“Yeah,” Jay says. He smiles through dry, chapped lips. “Yeah, s’alright.”
A few seconds later, a loud thud comes echoing through the wall, followed by a crashing noise and Will’s voice. “For fuck’s sake! Never again, this shit hole!”