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Summary
It had been easy to sign up on the app; his inbox was flooded within the hour. Finding the golden needle in a pile of bent ones had taken a little more effort, but his whole stomach had somersaulted when he’d swiped one possibility away only to land on one _gadgetheadr2.
Or; Anakin.
How a one-and-done fuck had turned into a semi-formalized sugar baby arrangement with a twenty-two-year-old midlife crisis, Obi-Wan was both too mortified and secretly too thrilled to unravel. The boy was a bright, beautiful piece of shrapnel that had settled uncomfortably close to Obi-Wan’s vital organs, and he was too weak to remove it.
And never more so when Anakin was on his knees.