Hans Larsson

Those tight pants were tormenting and part of the reason Rekker felt knots in his stomach. He's glad the Swede is behind him as they walked the hall. He didn't need more to fray his nerves.

Rekker raised his brow but the hand motion pulled his eyes down the Swede's body. He was going to have to wash his hair now and he dreaded it. Internally scolding himself for being stupid enough to mention that to the singer.

"I'm a man, not a little bitch." Rekker shot back at the comment about his body. He was having a hard time staying mentally stable with the Swede stripping off clothes in the middle of his bedroom. He should have kept his mouth shut in the elevator.

He stares though, can't help himself once Bjorn pulls off his shirt. The feminine aspects of the singer were getting to him and his nerves. Taking a deep breath he turns away and walks toward the bathroom. "I better get the shit for your fucking candy coated rat's nest."

He's trying to pretend or at least present that he's not interested but internally he can feel his pulse picking up and the attraction. That attraction had his hands going cold and forcing the guitarist to fight with anxiety over being touched or worse having to be naked with the Swede.