Hans Larsson

"You think so? My brother often says I'm a bad fucking liar too."

Bjorn turned around and then pulled his pants down his pale thighs, or rather peeled them down his legs, because the man was a tease. Then he was standing in nothing but his pink panties. Yes, pink. What a surprise. The singer offering Rekker a wiggle of his ass before he turned back around to stare at the ginger's hot body.

"Nice legs. So, you are ginger all the way down. Good to know. I always imagined you would be."

Imagined being Bjorn's choice of words since he'd had dreams since they'd met the first time. Ever since their bitchy confrontation he'd dreamt about the angry Brit in bed with him. Not surprising at all. Yet, the man's legs were crisscrossed with scars from where he'd cut himself no doubt. The poor man. The Swede felt a pang of hurt for Rekker because of what he did to himself because of his illness.

"Are you ok? I mean----sharing a shower with me and doing my hair? This means a lot to me, babe. Really."