Hans Larsson

"Like your bruised lips?" Rekker laughed at the puffy, light purple tinge to the singer's lower lip. He must have bit down harder than he thought at some point.

The moan was good to hear and Rekker squeezed the singer's ass roughly. Groaning he looked up at the disheveled Swede, some how even hotter now with his hair wild and remnants of make up smudged on his face.

"I could take your bitchy, princess ass to my bed." Rekker smirked haughtily while rubbing his hands over Bjorn's soft, but muscular, ass cheeks. "See if you're louder the second time."