Hans Larsson

Rekker tilted Bjorn's head back to rinse the soap out. Those hands pulled his eyes down and a tremble of nervousness shook him but the goose bumps on his arms and across his abdomen were arousal. He tries to keep himself stable and focus on the hair. He wants to pull it and a moment passes of imagining yanking the Swede closer.

"My ex years ago." What was it now, 10 years or something ridiculous since he showered with someone other than his bandmates out of necessity backstage. That though wasn't what the Swede was getting at. Rekker hadn't even had anyone in his house since then, not sexual partners for sure.

"Special?" Rekker laughed as he slipped his hands slowly out of the singer's hair, lingering longer than needed. "Yes, if that means you a special fucking pain in the ass bitch."

He turned and got something else motioning for the Swede to step out of the water and mercifully letting him escape those hands on his waist. "Come out of the water."