With a quick flick of his wrist behind them, Obi-Wan makes sure the door is locked once again before he puts his hands on Klaus instead, stroking up under the thin material of his shirt, fingertips dragging along his back. The music still pulses through him with every heavy beat of the bass and he can hear people laughing, shouting, voices that pass by on the way to the bathroom or to the back door so they can slip out onto the patio for a cigarette. He feels like he needs to be on guard, all his senses heightened.

It makes every touch of Klaus's hands, the press of his lips, the way he pinches Obi-Wan's nipples feel like so much more. His skin is sensitive and his hands move down, curving over Klaus's ass and squeezing through the leather.

The words Klaus speaks against his ear are wonderfully obscene and he moans in response and thinks, again, as he does so often lately, I love him. Every time he thinks it, it feels less dangerous. Every time he thinks it, he comes nearer to saying it. He hadn't said it often enough to Satine, had instead relied on her understanding of him as a person to simply know it.

She had deserved to hear it said properly. And so does Klaus.

At the moment, however, he feels rather dumbstruck and all he manages to say is, "Klaus, I-" before they're kissing again.