swedish_rocker | New Beginnings and rekindling an old flame.

New Beginnings and rekindling an old flame.

Hans had met up with Vars and his new boyfriend Viktor whilst in Norway. The Swede had been pleased to catch up with Vars since he hadn't spoken to any of the Hammers face to face for a long time. How long had it been? Now, Hans and his younger brother, Bjorn, were on the way to LA along with Vars and Viktor to meet up with the rest of the Hammers and to meet two other bands; Ziggy and the Spiders from Mars and the Hell's Angels, Viktor's band. It would be good to get back with other musicians after spending some much time in rehab and Hans knew he could use all the company he could get. The months and years hadn't been easy and he'd often felt lonely or isolated from society after his stay in hospital following his near death experience. He'd overdosed on painkillers and Hunter, his ex-boyfriend had found it too much and had ran.

Hans still ached for Hunter in a way, even though the spark they had together was no longer there. He still missed the man though and the soft warm touches at night. But people moved on after months apart and Hans suspected Hunter had found another man. It was to be expected and the Swede bore no ill will towards his ex lover at all. Glancing to Vars, Hans then placed a hand on the man's shoulder as he felt nerves constrict his insides at meeting Hunter once more. Bjorn giggled and poked fun a little before getting a surly glare from Viktor. The Brit punk had attitude and Hans found him a little intimidating but nothing to the point of not liking the man. If Vars loved Viktor then Hans would find a friend in the fire-loving Brit. All the bands were a family and Hans knew this more than anyone. The question regarding Bjorn though---the young man was a live wire and loved to cause chaos and trouble wherever he went. Hopefully, Hans would be able to keep his brother out of anything bad.

He hoped.

"Well, it will be nice seeing Aarne and Rik again. Hunter---I missed him."

Hans swallowed hard and wondered how the man would even react.

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"I'm surviving, for now."

That was how Rekker took things, a day of survival at a time. He closed the door on Crusher's enclosure as they went by since she was in sunning and the Swede wasn't used to her. Sometimes she would stroll into the shower or whatever and that was a startle the young singer didn't need.

Rekker stopped and stared at Bjorn's pants. "Have you looked at your fucking pants? Mine aren't even tight."

The Singer had basically a second skin but if Bjorn was going to accuse him. Rekker pulled off his shirt and tossed it in the corner as they walked into the bed room. "Now, I'm a fucking tease, I guess."

Once inside the room he stopped, turning with crossed arms. Rekker is tone, not chiseled like someone who spent all day at the gym but lithe and muscular everywhere from sports and activity. There's a trail of hair starting blonde at the lower part of his chest that reddens and gets a little thicker as it trails down toward the waist of his rather low sitting, tight jeans.

Edited 2021-10-01 20:18 (UTC)

"Surviving is all we can do, honey."

Bjorn nodded then giggled, glancing down at his tight leather pants which were more akin to a second skin, stretched tightly over his toned thighs. The singer liked it like this because it was the glam style and they didn't hinder his movement up on stage. He could perform acrobatics and make the crowd go wild.

Then, Rekker removed his shirt. Fuck!

"Ooh, babe! I love your toned torso and that trail of hair that goes down..."

He pointed to his own navel region and licked his lips. That fucking trail! Bjorn ached to see where it lead and knew he may not even get that chance but there was always hope. The man was so hot and sexy. Those arms were something too. If he was stripping them Bjorn would do the same since he was about to get his hair washed soon anyway. Right?

"My go!"

The Swede pulled off his shirt and threw it onto the floor just shy of where Rekker threw his. The singer's chest was toned but slightly more feminine with lack of any hair. His still had muscles in his arms though and had a slight dusting of blond hair down by his navel leading down into his tight pants.

Those tight pants were tormenting and part of the reason Rekker felt knots in his stomach. He's glad the Swede is behind him as they walked the hall. He didn't need more to fray his nerves.

Rekker raised his brow but the hand motion pulled his eyes down the Swede's body. He was going to have to wash his hair now and he dreaded it. Internally scolding himself for being stupid enough to mention that to the singer.

"I'm a man, not a little bitch." Rekker shot back at the comment about his body. He was having a hard time staying mentally stable with the Swede stripping off clothes in the middle of his bedroom. He should have kept his mouth shut in the elevator.

He stares though, can't help himself once Bjorn pulls off his shirt. The feminine aspects of the singer were getting to him and his nerves. Taking a deep breath he turns away and walks toward the bathroom. "I better get the shit for your fucking candy coated rat's nest."

He's trying to pretend or at least present that he's not interested but internally he can feel his pulse picking up and the attraction. That attraction had his hands going cold and forcing the guitarist to fight with anxiety over being touched or worse having to be naked with the Swede.

The singer loved that his tight pants tormented people from groupies to other members of different bands. But now he had no need for groupies anymore because the only person he wanted was the ginger bastard. He just had to have him. Somehow. The man was so fucking sexy even if he didn't know it.

"Oh, I know you're a man, babe. Just looking at your manly attributes right now. That ginger hair going down is such a fucking tease."

Bjorn couldn't help but admire the man's body and wonder how many men and women had the pleasure of it. Not wanting to think about that the singer just thought about what might happen in the next few moments. The hair washing.

"Rat's nest? It's not that bad. You love it really, admit it."

The Swede giggling whilst running a hand through it. Mostly, it was the hairspray which caused it to stick up and clump together. Bjorn washed his hair a lot but then he had to style it to create his glam image. No good having flat boring hair. That fucking sucked. Watching Rekker walk away, Bjorn just stared at that ass and wondered what it would look like naked.

"You're staring at my crotch." Rekker rolled his eyes though he wasn't exactly sure, Bjorn's eyes had definitely lingered low for more than a couple breaths.

He went straight for the cabinets and tried to ignore the half naked Swede. It did leave Rekker, now shirtless and reaching up into the top of the cabinet for things he rarely used on his own hair.

"No." He glanced over his shoulder while setting the bottles on the bathroom counter. "I hate the fucking sticky bullshit in it."

He had a textural problem with the tackiness the hairspray left behind on his hands. Rekker was trying to think if there was somewhere he could stand in the shower where he could wash Bjorn's hair and not get soaked so he could stay dressed. Nothing was coming to mind because he hadn't had to think about it yet. His hands had gone cold from the anxiety inside while he went over and put the bottles on the shelf in the spacious shower.

He wondered where the Swede was and turned around to look into the other room. He caught sight of his own hot tub and frowned. He didn't believe in god but he might well pray that it goes unnoticed at this point.

"I am? Oh, I had no idea it was that obvious."

Bjorn was a lying bitch as well as a tarty one and he was now curious as to what Rekker would use to get the hairspray out of his blond whore hair as the ginger put it. All the name calling was cute and the Swede loved how the Brit had certain names just for him. Moving close to Rekker, Bjorn walked into the space between them and smiled deviously. Fuck, this was going to be good. The singer's eyes then caught sight of something else.

Oh. Oh.

"You've got a fucking hot tub! Wow. Let's get in it! You could wash my hair in there. It's big enough for two---looks it."

The cat was well and truly out of the bag now. This solved their dilemma of who would stand in the shower and who wouldn't? Bjorn was already pulling off his boots, unlacing them and throwing them into the corner with his shirt.

"I don't think you've fucking blinked for a minute."

He noticed and while he was flattered his mind was already convincing him that Bjorn just wanted to use him or get something out of him. It was how his mind worked, at least initially.

"You can't put soap in a hot tub." Rekker stepped out to stare and roll his eyes. "You'll fucking ruin it."

Of course, since the Swede was probably still in the wreck the hotel room stage of his career he probably didn't care, or think about the problems with it. Then the Swede was stripping farther down and Rekker felt his breath catch hard in his throat. It was probably a good idea to get his meds in him before he freaked out. Rekker stepped away into the bedroom and pulled a bottle out of the bedside table. He needed to take his anxiety meds, usually didn't, but he was afraid he was about to plunge into a full blown meltdown given the shakes and upset stomach he was experiencing.

"Maybe I haven't. I can't fucking help it when a hot ginger is standing up close to me with his fucking shirt off."

Bjorn was beginning to get hot himself as his mind began racing at the possibility of actually kissing this grouchy bastard. That and touching that long hair of his again. As for anything else that just got the singer internally panting at the very idea. The Brit was hot as fuck.

"Aw, you can't? Why? Does it blow up or some shit? Why don't they make them for two hot guys to have fun inside them?"

The Swede pouted and put both hands on his hips while watching Rekker step back into the bedroom. Was he taking meds? Poor guy. The singer felt bad for the Brit because his life was ruled by his health condition. What could he do? Not wanting to interfere, Bjorn hung back just eyeing up the hot tub.

"What does not having a shirt have to do with my crotch?"

Rekker eyed the Swede and sighed. He could feel his pulse pounding from staring at the singer. He felt the way he was being looked at and he wanted it. Rekker craved attention despite his mind telling him all of it was fake. It caused such turmoil.

He came back in from taking his meds and shook his head. "It ruins the jets and filtration."

That left one choice. Glancing at the shower he let out a breath and resigned himself to what he got for speaking without thinking. "Your hair is getting washed in the shower, not the hot tub."

And this meant he was going to have to strip down, either getting in the shower or when he got our soaked and covered in soap.

"I don't know, babe. What does it have to do with staring at your crotch? I could have been staring at your belt buckle because you wear your pants so fucking low."

Bjorn being a bitch and ignoring the question because he could. Was he staring at the Brit's crotch? Of course he was. The Swede was imagining all kinds of things with Rekker, most lewd and filthy. This was how the singer's mind worked. Total trash.

"Shit, it does? I wouldn't know. So, we're going with the shower now? Ok! Suits me, Gingerlocks."

The Swede giggled and then pulled his socks off and went to unbuckle his belt on his tight leather pants. Did he even need a belt? No. It was more for decoration because there was no way in hell that Bjorn's pants would slide down his legs on their own. They were stuck to his legs almost.

"You're a bad fucking liar." Rekker teases as he shook his head because he knew very well that the Swede was staring at his crotch.

Rekker stared at the shower still scolding himself about opening his mouth in the elevator. What an idiot he was in that moment. "I guess."

Then he's staring at the Swede unbuckling his belt. It caused a tightness all through Rekker's torso as the anxiety peaked again. His hands were still cold and now felt cold to him too. He was going to have to undress too.

Looking away from the Swede, Rekker resigned himself to his fate from his own stupidity. Unbuckling his own rather tight jeans he slid them off and felt suddenly exposed and uncomfortable. His skin is pale and the front of the thighs covered with more scars, straight lines across the front. Cutting on his legs hid it and so that had been his target even more than his arms had been. There are a lot of scars from years of repeated bouts of self harm. On a brighter note, he is definitely a natural red head. The hair down low is even redder than the hair on his head, nearly a red orange and dusted across the inside of his pale thighs.

Glancing at the Swede again he can't tell if this is a nightmare or something he wants. Through the nerves there's a flutter of arousal and want that is fighting with the part of his mind telling him is scarred body and broken mind made him ugly and unwanted.

"You think so? My brother often says I'm a bad fucking liar too."

Bjorn turned around and then pulled his pants down his pale thighs, or rather peeled them down his legs, because the man was a tease. Then he was standing in nothing but his pink panties. Yes, pink. What a surprise. The singer offering Rekker a wiggle of his ass before he turned back around to stare at the ginger's hot body.

"Nice legs. So, you are ginger all the way down. Good to know. I always imagined you would be."

Imagined being Bjorn's choice of words since he'd had dreams since they'd met the first time. Ever since their bitchy confrontation he'd dreamt about the angry Brit in bed with him. Not surprising at all. Yet, the man's legs were crisscrossed with scars from where he'd cut himself no doubt. The poor man. The Swede felt a pang of hurt for Rekker because of what he did to himself because of his illness.

"Are you ok? I mean----sharing a shower with me and doing my hair? This means a lot to me, babe. Really."

"You're a whore. I know you were looking." The comeback is more of an amused tease than serious.

Rekker could only stare at the Swede. Those panties only increased the attraction and the feminine cues that kept getting Rekker's pulse going. His eyes slid up his hips to his waist and the Brit felt his breath come out a little ragged.

"I'll be fine." He felt his nerves fraying but as he walked toward the shower he couldn't stop from glancing at the Swede again. The mix if panic and arousal is turning his stomach but it's nothing new. Maybe the water would help, at least relax the tension.

"I'm might be a whore but I'm your whore, babe."

The Swede wiggled his hips suggestively before removing his panties with his fingers, teasing the Brit by removing them slowly and then kicking them off into the corner with the rest of his clothes. A small trail of blond hair delving low from his navel into the thatch of hair above his cock. His body was toned with athletic muscle on his arms and abdomen showing off the more masculine side of his physique.

"If you're sure. Don't worry, I'll make sure to be a good boy in the shower."

Famous last words. The Swede couldn't help but become a little aroused already at sharing the shower with the ginger Brit. He was hot.

"Who says I want a whore?"

This is banter for the sake of banter because the Brit is getting more and more attracted to the singer. The thinner athletic body is the usual for the guitarist who has met a lot of his partners either in the music industry or while surfing.

Rekker could only raise a brow at that comment while turning on the shower. Good had way too many meanings, especially with both of them naked and getting into the shower.

"At least your hair won't be like sticky fucking dry grass."

"Oh, but you've already got a private one now, honey. Me."

Bjorn stepped up closer towards Rekker, not touching but standing very close behind the metalhead, smiling and wanting to touch that red hair once more. It was such a fucking tease! That and having the man naked in front of him. The Swede could hardly contain himself and knew he'd have to because Rekker wasn't like the normal men he'd met. The poor man was sick and needed to be treated carefully.

"Make it nice and shiny, babe. I trust you on this."

The singer winking and then gently brushing past the Brit to step into the shower first, offering a full view of his body.

"My own private whore?" Rekker started laughing. "That rich bastard next door is going to be jealous."

He hated his neighbors but it was likely true for the one he was thinking about. He could feel the closeness and swallowed hard from want but also the rising desire to walk away. He felt vulnerable, way too open and exposed to be comfortable. Part of that was all the scars he usually kept hidden away under long pants. That only reminded him that he was naked. Though his gaze follows Bjorn as he brushes past, hot and wanting. No matter what his mind felt there were also the signals from his body that had been without intimacy for a long time.

Rekker distracted himself by getting one of the bottles, starting with a shampoo made to strip away dirt and grime. The disgusting fucking hairspray.

"You better if you want me to keep touching your hair." Rekker smiled slightly, flirting despite the nerves. "Your hair is trash."

Now it was Rekker standing close and waiting for the Swede to get his hair wet so that it could be washed.

"If you want me to be I can."

Bjorn of course was mainly teasing but fuck---he wanted Rekker so badly now that both men were naked and in the hot shower. How many times had the Swede fucked men in the shower? Too many times to think. But each time had been different. This time with the Brit? It was always special and Rekker was a very different kind of man compared to the usual cheap dates he met.

"My hair is trash? How rude, babe! I know you'll make it nice and sexy. Just like yours."

Thrusting his bleached blond locks underneath the hot shower jets, Bjorn sighed in pleasure and even offered up a soft moan because it felt good. Just to feel those hot jets touch his soft skin. Was he being a teasing bastard? Oh yes.

Rekker didn't respond because his mind fell into a loop of recognizing that he wanted the Swede and the rest of his mind screaming at him that no one wanted him.

He's staring though as the singer stretches and leans back to wet his hair. The moan has the Brit looking over that boyish body. He wants to touch but worries about being wanted, worries about his touch being wrong or unwelcome, all the worries crushing in on him.

However, he still steps closer, nearly standing up against the front of the singer. Rekker has a death grip on the thw shampoo bottle, knuckles white as he pours some into his hand and sets the bottle aside. It smells heavily of botanical but not anything feminine given the prominent smell of rosemary and lime in the shampoo.

Bjorn wondered how the Brit was taking all of this given his mental state. The closeness though that felt good as the blond allowed Rekker to clean his hair, trying to keep his hands under control. Fuck. He wanted to touch the ginger's chest and run his nails down it causing the man to moan. Dirty mental images now flooding his mind.

"Don't worry about being a little rough, sweetie. I can take it."

Another wink and Bjorn was licking his lips as he anticipated the guitarist's skilled fingers working his wet scalp and going inside his sticky strands of hair. The hairspray slowly being drained out by the hot water. The smell of the shampoo was nice though and Bjorn smiled.

"Ooh, it smells good."

Rekker was internally a mess but years in the spotlight gave him the skills to hide it effectively. His eyes are all over the other musician, in part because his panic inside is making it hard to focus on anything.

Once Bjorn is out of the water Rekker starts working the shampoo into the Swede's hair, mostly at the roots and working his way to the ends. Hes used to taking care of his own hair which takes a lot of time.

"I know. You shoved your face into my hair in the fucking elevator." Rekker sighed as much in nervousness about the elevator incident as to let our some of the pressure building from arousal. "I used this on my hair this morning."

The Swede could feel the ginger's eyes roaming over his body because as a singer on stage he looked to his other musicians for guidance and visual cues. He knew what was up. Hands gently coming out to slide around Rekker's waist just to hold him there and to steady himself. Just something nice and slow as to not panic the Brit.

"Yeah I did. Sorry but I can't help it? Your hair is too fucking sexy."

Bjorn grinned like a cheeky schoolboy as his hands stayed fixed on the metalhead's waist, not going anywhere they shouldn't. Not now anyway. He was being good which was so fucking hard right now! The grouchy ginger was so attractive and had a big heart. The Swede was falling in love and nothing could stop that.

"Have you had many people in your shower, babe? Am I special?"

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."

Edited 2021-10-02 21:19 (UTC)

The singer sighed softly as Rekker tipped his head back washing the soap out. It felt nice to be doted on and the guitarist's fingers felt good in his wet soapy hair. All of the hairspray now long gone and no longer a sticky rat's nest as the ginger Brit had named it.

"Your ex? I wonder if they were as pretty as me."

Bjorn couldn't help but be playful now that he and Rekker was standing in the shower jets together. Stepping out of the water he let go of the metalhead's waist and shot a cheeky smile. His hair felt cleaner not longer in sticky clumps and the smell of the shampoo smelt really good. But what was even better was a naked Rekker. The ginger hair all wet and alluring causing the Swede to hitch a breath. Was he getting turned on? Oh yes.

"I'd rather not talk about her." Rekker's words are dark and there's a sadness there. Talking about his ex would destroy his mood. Instead he focused on the task at hand.

He had a blended oil for his hair when it got dry and had imagined it would help the bleach damaged mess on the Swede's head. The oil had a mix but tea tree and Jojoba were dominant in the scent. The anxiety was still there causing his fingers to feel cold and tingly. The meds weren't fully kicked in yet and until then he had to fight the desire to run or panic.

"You look like a drenched clown." Rekker smirked as he came back over with a handful of oil for Bjorn's hair. He wasn't wrong. All the running make up was a mess. The guitarist though was back to the Swede's hair, working the oil into the ends, especially where it was particularly damaged or dry. "You need to leave this in for at least five minutes."

The instructions were given while Rekker's hands were still in Bjorn's hair but his eyes were on his pale skin and how close they were to each other.

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