Klaus feels Obi-Wan’s smile against his mouth and relaxes even further, smiling as his new, more delicate face is peppered with soft kisses. He’s so terribly lucky.

“Not a lot of hair anywhere,” Klaus murmurs against the pad of Obi-Wan’s finger, nipping at it playfully before he moves away. He’d noticed that his legs were smooth and his pubic hair was neatly groomed, which he supposes makes sense. Sometimes he shaves his legs just because he likes the feel of it, and he always does when he’s in drag.

Obi-Wan lifts his hand, causing the blankets to spill down around Klaus’s hips, and he turns his other arm slightly to see the tattoo declaring his troop still there on his bicep. His dog tags are still there, laying neatly between his breasts. The beauty mark on his collarbone is still there, too. So are the little scars that he’s picked up over the years.

Klaus lifts his gaze to Obi-Wan’s face as he presses a kiss to Klaus’s palm, and the look on his face sends a small shiver through him, a rush of affection and pleasure that sends a flush to his cheeks.

“I should get a tattoo for you,” he says suddenly, smiling as he cups Obi-Wan’s cheek. “Maybe I’ll let you pick the spot.”