When Klaus sucks at his skin, at that ring of muscle, Obi-Wan's hips jerk against his hip, and he lets out a shaking, desperate sort of moan. What a silly question Klaus asks then and he laughs, the sound as shaking and desperate as his moan had been.

With a glance over his shoulder, looking down at Klaus, he shakes his head, looking amused and pleased and already rather debauched, a lock of hair falling over his forehead and into his eyes. And with Klaus standing, with two fingers inside of him, Klaus's chin over his shoulder and their faces so close, he is already shaking with pleasure.

"Yes," he breathes, then grins as he tips his head back against Klaus's shoulder. "I'll make you proud."

They could be anywhere now. Obi-Wan is peripherally aware of the room, the still pounding music, the reality that anyone could be on the other side of the door, and he doesn't care. Klaus has all his attention, all his focus, every twist of his fingers, every hitch of his breath, he has everything.