There’s the slightest pinch at the stretch of a third finger, but it’s gone almost in an instant and Klaus is left with an exquisite sort of pressure. He likes having Obi-Wan taking up room inside of his body, and for a moment he’s tempted to see how far they could go with this, too.

Instead he’s distracted by the relentless lap of Obi-Wan’s tongue against his clit, and arches his back with a loud, appreciative moan. Obi-Wan settles in as if he would be truly content doing this all night, like he’d keep his face buried between his legs until the sun comes up.

So, Klaus lets him do just that. For a while, at least. He loses track of time as he lets the pleasure build and build until he can feel it everywhere, until he’s panting and whimpering, thighs flexing as he tries to stave off an orgasm. He gets close, dancing right on the edge of it, and his hips jerk as he pulls back from it again.

He lets it build until it’s almost too much, and then Obi-Wan’s clever fingers thrust in hard against that perfect spot inside of him and he’s done, unable to hold back. He comes with a loud, almost startled cry, hips jerking as a hot gush of liquid leaks out against Obi-Wan’s chin.

It goes on and on and it feels so good that he laughs, nearly euphoric as his fingers twist in Obi-Wan’s hair.

“Setting a high bar,” he gasps out, squeezing Obi-Wan’s head playfully between his thighs for a moment before letting go.