Rekker felt dizzy and was definitely not completely in control of himself; physically or emotionally. His mind was on a one track course that he couldn't derail it from. He's horny and he wants Bjorn with a drunken desperation.

"Shut your fucking mouth." Rekker scolds but he's laughing from the slap on his ass. "I'll buy you five fucking pairs of whore pants if you ...."

Rekker growled and started trying to roughly pull off the the shreds of Bjorn's pants. "..Help me get this fucking shit off so I can fuck your ass."

Rekker's words are slurred, thick with his accent, hard to understand. His touch though as he rubs his calloused hands over the soft skin of the singer's hips is all lust and want.