Hans Larsson

"You're a whore. I've got no reason to tease you." Rekker yanked Bjorn's hair hard.

The smooth, softness of the Swede's skin was enough to get Rekker ready to go. He had men before but the roughness wasn't exactly his thing. A man that felt like a woman though was a turn on and the Brit's hand slid from Bjorn's back to those smooth legs.

Rekker starts laughing. "If I wanted a fucking guitar in my lap, it would be there." But then that bite and those nails. Fuck those nails. The moan that came with that raking sensation was loud and lusty. They were enough that it pulled him to full erection. He hadn't been lying to the Swede before when he said he had nothing to make up for with his ego. Grabbing on to that smooth, creamy thigh Rekker shoved his hips against the singer's.

It takes a moment to get his breath under control and then he moans again at the feeling of Bjorn's body wiggling about in his lap. His whole expression turns mischievous as he kisses those soft lips, just barely. "I'll make those bastards next door listen to you scream like a whore all night."