Hans Larsson

"My brain's fucked." That was the only way he could describe how he felt about his mind running without a way to stop it.

The sudden burst of energy from the Swede got a raised brow before Rekker was staring at their hands together. His heart thumped in his ears from the touch and the pull combined with where this house tour was going.

"I'm not doing a fucking thing to tease you." He just gave another exasperated exhale as he walked out of the room. He couldn't reconcile the way he wanted to recoil from the Swede with his emotions and body wanting to be closer. It was driving the Brit crazy inside to be in constant emotional flux as he dreaded having to wash the singer's hair. Why did he have to open his fucking mouth? He walked toward the bedroom without speaking because he was afraid anger would slip out as he became furious with his own mind being at war.