Hans Larsson

His will was getting ragged as he fought his own anxiety. Those noises felt good and shot his anxiety through the roof. He's glad for the moment free of the Swede.

His hands stopped in his hair to look up at the singer walking toward him. Rekker took a breath and pushed his hair back to rinse it.

"Why do you care if I have?" He tried to get defensive but then those fingers and nails were on his chest. The gasp isn't going to go unnoticed and happens too fast for the Brit to stop it from escaping. Anxiety or not, Rekker slides one hand around Bjorn's waist, just above the hip. His heart is pounding in terror but he can't ignore the fact they are both naked and flirting forever.