When Klaus comes, Obi-Wan can feel it in the way his body tightens, in the way his muscles clench, and he has to muffle his own moan between that and the sharp bite on his shoulder. It's going to leave a mark, a round, mouth-shaped bruise, and he likes it very much, thinking of that mark under his clothing, knowing it's there when no one else does beyond the man who put it there. While he has no desire to hide anything from anyone, it still feels special, something to be shared only between the two of them, something to remember these moments and this night by.

Not that he'll need anything. Obi-Wan has to believe that telling Klaus he loves him over the loud, pulsing music of a club has to be memorable no matter what else they do tonight.

He strokes Klaus through his orgasm, his thumb gliding up the underside of his cock, wanting to draw every last bit of pleasure from him before he gives into his own. And when he knows it's likely to have become too much, too sensitive, he stops his strokes, though he doesn't release Klaus, instead choosing to hold onto him, to feel the weight of his cock in his hand, still heavy and warm.

With his arm still tight around Klaus, Obi-Wan buries his face in the side of his throat, his hips still rolling, though they pick up speed a little, his smooth rhythm faltering as he feels his own orgasm trying to take him. He manages a few more deep thrusts before it's all too much and Obi-Wan presses his mouth to Klaus's skin, his teeth pressing into him, muffling the moan as he comes.