Hans Larsson

"Well, you did invite me here, Gingerlocks. I'm not about to leave because that would be fucking lame. I like you and this place? It fucking rocks!"

The Swede crossing his arms and not budging for a moment or two as he squared off at the metalhead. The Brit could be a stubborn fuckhead but Bjorn liked him---really liked him. What was it? Lust? Love? A bit of both? Inquisitive nature? That thrown in too. The guy had a massive house and interesting creatures. What was not to like? Oh and a fucking expensive car.

"It won't be. Do you have to moan like a cheap whore yourself? The glitter sticks to me, babe. Most of the time anyway. Don't you have a housecleaner or something to clean it all up anyway? You're a rich fuck."

Bjorn smiled at the finger thrown back at him.