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Reg grabbed the door handle and was about to walk out so he could share his theory of what was going on and also sit Jeremy on his lap and rub his shoulders while he talked, but Jeremy’s next comment stopped him in his tracks.
“I already told you it isn’t Reg.” He paused. “Because I know him, that’s how I know! He wouldn’t do that to me. He cares about me, and he knows how much I hate all those photographers.” Jeremy paused and then nodded. “Yes, he does. But other people also know my schedule. Other people who work for you! And maybe they’re not as careful with it as they should be.”
Jeremy collapsed into a chair and hunched down, looking worn out. Reg decided to count to one hundred and then, if Jeremy was still that upset, he was going out there, taking the phone away, and kissing him until he melted. He loved evoking that reaction in the powerful but vulnerable man, probably even more than he enjoyed the other reaction he could elicit with a kiss.
“Damn it, Bill, you’re not listening to me. I know you vet your staff. I know they’re good at what they do. But something is going on. The paparazzi are like fucking mosquitos swarming me everywhere I go.” Jeremy looked up at the ceiling, and even from where he stood, Reg could see his jaw clenching. “I’m not being dramatic. It has never been this bad before. Never.”
After another brief pause, he flew to his feet, shifting from defeated to animated in a flash. “It isn’t Reg!” Back to pacing, he tugged on his hair. “I don’t know how I know, I just… wait.” He stopped in his tracks. “I’ll tell you how I know.” Jeremy smirked, his posture straightening. “Where was I on Halloween?” He barely waited before continuing. “No. I meant what bars. But you know what? Doesn’t matter, because you’re wrong about that too. You don’t know where I ate that night, where I drank, where I slept. You don’t know what city I was in, let alone what state. And you know who else doesn’t know?” He paused meaningfully. “Every fucking person in the world with access to the Internet, that’s who! Because for the first time since I started this tour, there were no photographers!”
From the self-satisfied expression on Jeremy’s face, Reg knew he had won. He slid the door open and stepped outside. Jeremy turned his head and smiled at him. Then the smile faded as he dragged his gaze down Reg’s naked body. In response to the admiration, Reg’s cock filled.
“Uh, what?” Jeremy shook his head. “Sorry I didn’t catch that.”
Reg stepped closer.
“Yeah, of course he knew, Bill. He was with me the entire time.”
Two more steps, and Reg was within touching distance. Jeremy closed the gap and leaned against him.
“For the millionth time, he’s my boyfriend, that’s why he was with me, and yes, I’m including that night in bed. I wasn’t away from him. He knew when I got up to take a piss. And we didn’t see a single photographer until we got to the Madison hotel, which your people reserved.”
Reg bent forward and licked Jeremy’s neck. Immediately, Jeremy trembled and tilted his head, giving Reg better access.
“That’s what I’ve been asking you,” he said, no longer yelling. In fact, he sounded hoarse. “If I knew how they were finding me, I wouldn’t have had to call you, yeah?”
“I think I know,” Reg said, and then he parted his lips and latched onto Jeremy’s skin.
“You’re going to leave a mark,” Jeremy rasped as he pushed up against Reg’s mouth.
“That’s the idea, superstar.” Reg scraped his teeth over the reddened skin. “Fuckin’ sick and tired of people acting like you’re gonna play around on me.”
Reg was close enough to the phone that he could hear Bill’s reaction. “Very nice,” Bill said. “I get the point, Jeremy. You can stop with the performance now.”
Whether Jeremy was going to respond, Reg would never find out because he chose that moment to cup Jeremy’s dick through his jeans and suck harder.
“Oh God, Reg.” Jeremy bucked into his hand and gazed up at him, his green eyes wide, his skin flushed, and his lips dark red. “I wouldn’t. I won’t. There’s nobody else.” Reg squeezed his dick, and he gasped. “I promise.”
“I trust you.” He combed his free hand through the back of Jeremy’s hair. “I know you’re mine, and you do too, don’t you?”
He flicked open the button on Jeremy’s jeans and shoved his hand inside. Jeremy whimpered and panted.
“Charming,” Bill said. “Piece of advice; if you’re going to try to sell this nonsense, use a different kind of porn for a script. Having Jeremy Jameson act like a simpering maiden isn’t going to—”
Reg grabbed the phone from Jeremy’s hand and threw it onto the chair in the corner of the balcony. “You’re not acting like a simpering anything,” he said, looking Jeremy in the eyes so he could see he meant every word. “Feeling passion,”—he rubbed his hand over Jeremy’s glans—“letting go of everything and trusting someone else to hold you up,”—he kept his palm over the top of Jeremy’s dick and moved his fingers up and down the shaft slowly—“those things don’t make you weak.” He leaned down and swiped his tongue over the mark he’d left on Jeremy’s neck. “Knowing who you are and letting yourself enjoy it”—he moved his fingers lower, across Jeremy’s dick, across his balls, and all the way between his legs so that his fingers entered Jeremy’s warm crease—“that’s the strongest way to be.”
