Rekker struggled, yanking one of the boots off and bashing his elbow into the door when it finally let go.

"Fuck!" It hurt but he paused long enough to yank off his jacket and throw it in the front seat. Then he yanked off the other boot. This one was easier because he noticed the zippers. Watching Bjorn flounder and the way he drew Rekker's eyes to his crotch while fumbling with the ties was too much.

"Fuck this shit. I want you." Rekker grabbed the side of Bjorn's pants at the waist, hands on either side of the seam, and ripped the seam open nearly to the knee. "You're a fucking hot bitch."

Rekker felt drunk, insane, wasn't thinking clearly or even at all. He wanted his lover and the fucking glam clothes were a bitch.