This is an 18+ Only Post
The Just 4U series is a collection of novels that are either Gay For You or Out For You plot-based. Each story contains a different couple, but will (I hope) will all take place in the same world. At the moment, only one story has been started, with a half dozen chapters, but I do plan to write each of the sixteen stories planned, as my next project.
Some characters from one book, may be related to characters in another, as a way of linking the books, or they might only be passing acquaintances.
The story ‘Lost’, mentions a youth centre, that will be a link between certain stories and the story ‘The Underground’, centres around a nightclub, that will be mentioned and link other stories together.
This post covers the last 4 books in the series.
Being a porn star isn’t easy. For Dennie, it’s been a good career, utilising his only skill. But now it’s time to move on and explore new options. His feelings for cameraman Kirk have been hampering, rather than helping, his performances of late. A blatant rejection from the retiring crew member sends him off to his new job, with a broken heart.
Can he find enough emotional fulfilment in his new career, to get past this devastating rejection? Or will Kirk’s stone heart crack and spill his secrets?
“Without you, I can’t do my job.” Dennie confessed, feeling vulnerable and more exposed now than when on camera.
Being a porn star wasn’t easy and it wasn’t always a happy career. Being a gay porn star, wasn’t much better. Although he didn’t have to pretend to get off on women, he still had to put on a show, even when he didn’t feel like it. Even when the man he really wanted touching him, was across the room, holding the camera.
“I had no choice but to retire. I thought I’d never see you again…unless I got a job and you were my photographer.” He explained, hoping that Kirk understood what he was saying. They had so little time left. “But now I’m not so sure. I think you want me, if not actually like me enough to date me. And if you do, I want to tell you that this is your last chance. I make my last film next week and then I’m gone. And so are you. We might never see each other again.” He reminded him, watching him blink at him in surprise.
He had never intended for it to be this way. For him to have to pin him to a bench seat in the back room of the club, just to get him alone, so he could say these words. He’d never thought it would come to this; making a rushed and inadequate confession, while having to hold him down, just so he didn’t run.
And what did Kirk do? He just lay there, staring at him, with those gorgeous eyes, as if none of it affected him at all.
Dennie caressed the side of his face, with his fingertips, hoping to spark a reaction. Nothing. Always nothing.
“Once next week’s film is over, I’m retired and two hours later I move out of my apartment. The agency have rented me a place, so I don’t know where I’ll be until I get there.” He warned him of the urgency. There wasn’t time to doubt or be afraid; he had to say something, right this minute, or never.
“If you want me, just for tonight or for good, then you have to take me, Kirk. You have to choose me…now.” He demanded, feeling like he was being torn in two.
Kirk just kept staring and blinking at him, with eyes that said he meant everything to the stupid cameraman, who couldn’t seem to get a word out. But his silence said that he meant nothing to him.
As a test, Dennie leaned down and kissed him gently, letting their lips connect for the very first time. Kirk barely reacted, so he pushed himself to sit up, still straddling him. “Do you want me?” He asked, softly.
Kirk looked terrified, but kept silent. And that seemed to be the only answer he was going to get.
With a sigh, Dennie nodded and tried to accept that. He tried to be okay with the rejection and the warm, inviting eyes that held the secrets of the man with a stone heart.
“Okay then.” He smiled softly, trying to be brave. He brushing his fingertips over Kirk’s chest, hating that he would never feel the bare skin beneath the t-shirt. Then he, reluctantly, got to his feet, turned and walked away.
Camden’s life has always run smoothly. Straight, popular, happy and healthy; nothing shook his nerves or jumped out to surprise him. Then he met Deacon. Beautiful and smart, he’s everything he never knew he could be attracted to. His wheelchair doesn’t even seem to affect his happy-go-lucky nature. It’s that confidence and joy that draws him in. Until he learns that Deacon is keeping a secret that he can’t understand.
It had been two weeks and Camden couldn’t get over his anger.
He didn’t know what Deacon had been thinking. He knew what it meant, for him to admit that he had romantic feelings for another guy. If it had been about sex or a conquest, then he might have accepted it as a college experiment and moved on. But this wasn’t so simple; he really liked Deacon and he’d become his best friend.
Now they were nothing. All because Deacon had lied.
He never heard the phone ringing, as he sat on the sofa, in the apartment. He was supposed to be studying, but he couldn’t concentrate.
“I’ll be right there.” Cairn said, snapping him out of his thoughts. Then he whacked his leg, with the back of his hand. “I need you to drive me to Deacon’s apartment. There’s something wrong.” He explained, reminding him that his room mate had been drinking. He’d had two beers with dinner, but he didn’t feel like driving.
Camden rolled his eyes, uninterested in being dragged back into Deacon’s drama.
He kept quiet and headed into his room, to grab shoes and a jacket. It was cold out, and if he had to drive round to his ex-best friend and ex-boyfriend’s apartment, then he was damned well going to be warm, while doing it.
It wasn’t until they arrived at the building and he stopped the car, that he realised how worried Cairn actually was. He had his door open, before he stopped the car and his feet on the pavement, the second it rolled to a halt.
Reluctantly, he allowed his curiosity to drag him out of the car and up the three flights to Deacon’s apartment. The door was swinging shut behind Cairn when he got there, letting him catch his back disappearing into the bathroom of the flat.
Camden walked over to the door and peeked inside, to find Deacon lying on the floor, with just a towel wrapped around his waist. He was still wet, his hair soaking, as if he’d just come out the shower. His eyes closed, instinctively, to the familiar smell of his deodorant, lingering in the room.
He noticed that the shower curtain was pulled back and there was a bath seat inside the bath, that he never knew was there. The shower curtain was always pulled over and he never looked behind it, before.
Deacon was crying and held his hands on his forehead.
“Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself?” Cairn asked, with real care and tenderness.
“That’s the problem.” Deacon cried, removing his hands, to look up at him. “I can’t feel my feet.” He admitted, with a sniff and a quiver in his voice.
“Worse than before?” Cairn wondered, as if a lack of sensation was familiar territory.
As soon as Deacon nodded, Cairn let out a sigh and helped him get up and sit on the closed loo seat. “Wait here and I’ll get your chair.” He said, already moving towards the door.
“No!” Deacon shouted his protest, peeking at Camden for a moment. He was surprised to see shame and a hint of anger in his eyes. “Just help me into the bedroom. I’ll be fine. I just…couldn’t get off the floor.” He admitted, flushing in embarrassment.
Cairn glanced over at him, with a look that said this was somehow his fault. “Wait outside,” he said, with no warmth.
Camden stepped out of the bathroom and flinched when the door was slammed shut behind him. He leaned back on the wall, for a moment, and listened to the gentle, caring way Cairn spoke to his brother and took care of him.
Leigh never thought that one mistake could affect his life in such a way that nothing would ever be the same again. He never thought that a break up would be the best thing that ever happened to him. And he never even suspected that meeting a French Maid at a Halloween party would turn his life upside down.
Leigh felt like shit.
He wiped his mouth and leaned on the plant pot he’d just puked in. It smelled of coconut, which he assumed was due to that fancy drink his brother had pushed on him. He was going to kill him, just as soon as he stopped seeing double.
He felt lower than low and hoped he could pass out soon, so that he wouldn’t have to think about anything, or remember.
Just as his eyes drooped with fatigue, he felt gentle hands brushing his hair back from his eyes. A cold cloth wiped at his mouth and slowly drifted over his face, cleaning up the mess he’d made.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone had taken care of him.
Leigh could sort of hear someone talking quietly into his ear, encouraging him to drink from a glass, then to use it to rinse his mouth out. He acted on autopilot, doing what they asked of him and letting himself lose control of the situation, for just a moment.
He leaned his shoulder on the wall and let those soft hands take care of him. When he felt more like himself, and less like a zombie, he squinted his eyes open. He couldn’t see much, except a pretty face and big brown eyes.
“I’m Ade, can you tell me your name?” The girl asked, her voice sweet and light.
“Leigh.” He managed, which was not bad, considering.
“Okay Leigh, I’m going to go through your pockets to find your ID card. Then I’ll try get you back to your dorm.” She said, hands already reaching for his jeans.
“No dorm. Don’t live here.” He got out, in argument. He was only here because of his stupid, idiotic, brother. He reached into his back jean pocket, but couldn’t get his hands to obey his wishes.
Ade did it for him; she slipped a gentle hand into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, careful not to jostle him too much.
He watched, blearily, as she read his address and stood up. Her long pins were right in front of his face, leading down to six inch heels and up to a mini-skirt that barely covered anything. He chose not to look under the skirt, though his vantage point was perfect for that. She was going to rescue him, so he decided to be a gentleman.
Brent’s life spirals out of control, from the very moment that his Police Sergeant calls him into his office, for a private chat. One thing after another, one day after the next, everything he knows to be true, will be turned on its head. Can he keep his feet long enough to figure out the secret of success? Or will there be one surprise too many, for the young cop?
Brent was surprised to be called into the boss’s office, not long after starting his morning shift. He hoped it had nothing to do with the arrest he and Kayden had just made, or a mistake that would cost them time or a conviction in the case.
His nerves mounted when Sergeant Chaucer closed the door behind him and shut the blinds. This wasn’t good. It was never good, when the boss tried to get as much privacy as possible for a simple discussion.
“Anything wrong Boss?” Brent asked, nervously.
“Yes, actually.” He answered, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk.
Brent sat down, unsure of himself, now that they were alone.
“I was looking at your file earlier…I see you made a change to your official record last year.” The Sergeant mentioned, moving around to sit on the edge of his desk, right in front of Brent. The proximity made him uncomfortable; how long had he known Monty? Nearly a decade? Why was he bringing this up, and making such a big deal about it?
“Yeah, the office got my date of birth wrong. Nothing big.” Brent replied, squirming in his seat, as he waited to hear what came next. He had a really bad feel, in the pit of his gut, that he’d been found out.
“I see.” Monty smiled and got to his feet. He stepped up in front of Brent, getting so close that he was forced to look up so that he wasn’t just staring at his crotch. “So it wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you lied on your application, stating you were nineteen, when you were actually only seventeen?” He challenged him.
Brent gulped and licked his lips, recounting the lie over and over inside his head, before he spoke the words. “No sir.” He said, convincingly.
Monty leaned over him, pushing a hand into the back of his chair, until they were nose to nose. “Liar.” He whispered, making his heart pound, erratically. “But I’ll tell you what…you do something for me and I’ll forget we ever had this conversation.” He bargained, sounding casual and off-hand, as if he hadn’t been planning this all along.
Brent couldn’t help but be curious. “And my file?” He asked.
“As you said, a mistake with your date of birth.”
“I won’t break the law.” He protested, getting that out there, right off the bat.
“You won’t have to.” Monty promised, before standing up straight and undoing the zipper of his work trousers. “Just find a way to keep me quiet.” He hinted, with a smile.
Brent looked up at his eyes, shocked by the suggestion. But, eventually, his gaze travelled down his fit as heck body and settled on what he pulled out of his trousers.
How long had he wanted to see what he kept trapped in the confines of his underwear? How long had he ached and dreamed of having any small piece of Monty for himself?
“I think I can do that, Boss.” He smiled back, relishing the opportunity to put his skills to the test.