Hans Larsson

Rekker was being a dirty tease and giggled at all the bitching from Bjorn. He had found this bastard annoying but all the feminine bullshit from him got under Rekker's skin and now all he could think about is fucking the damned Swede all night.

"You're not my slut yet." He whispered as his hand slid around low on Bjorn's abdomen, palm flat and holding him. Those fucking pouty lips, Rekker bit them and shoved all the way in, pushing the Swede open roughly. That got a gasped growl from the Brit. Fuck, for all his whorish talk he was tight. His breath instantly getting shallow.

"Now, you're my bitchy little slut." He couldn't keep his hips still and started moving, thrusting but not too roughly yet. He wanted to see how hard the singer wanted it.