#zero self control

Anakin jolted to a stop, arrested by the intriguing sound. He was lost, although suddenly a lot less concerned with that fact. He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was going, watching the final laps of the race he’d much rather be attending on his phone as he made his way to the bathroom before he was subjected to an agonizing two hours of nonstop Infinite Happiness - Live in Concert, his preschool twins most favorite singing group in the whole world. He’d just had to go and buy the concert tickets when Padmé said she hadn’t been able to get a hold of any herself, only thinking of the dual win of being the hero in their eyes and one upping their mother while he was at it, not stopping to consider the astronomical loss that having to sit through the concert would be.

Anakin caught sight of the shadowy figure who’d spoken from where they were tucked into a dark corner. Shining gray blue eyes captured his attention and threw all sense out the window and he said the first thing that came to mind. “I'd rather take a power drill to the temple than have to listen to The Happy Song one more time.”

A look of pure incredulity passed over the stranger’s face. They threw their head back with a laugh that drew Anakin in and had him smiling right along with him.

“Cheers to that mate,” the man said. He raised a flask in Anakin’s direction with a nod and then tipped it to his lips with several long gulps that drew Anakin’s eyes to the bob of his throat. “Only way to get through it.”

He held the flask out to Anakin with a questioning tilt of his head, and Anakin found himself step forward despite himself. “What the hell,” he muttered under his breath and brought it up to his lips without breaking eye contact. His eyes teared up as it burned its way down his throat, warmth blooming and spreading through his chest. A thought stuck in his mind as he handed it back - received with a cocky smirk and tossed back far more gracefully - was that those delectable lips were wrapped around where his had just been.

“What’s your name, gorgeous?”

Gorgeous. “Anakin.”

“Pretty name for a pretty boy.”

Anakin’s cheeks were on fire - and when had it gotten so hot in here? - when he was offered the flask again and drank far more deeply than was wise to hide his face and save himself from having to come up with a response.

What the fuck was happening here? He was a father. He didn’t day drink, for one thing, and not with strangers, for another. Certainly not at children’s concerts. And he hadn’t flirted with anyone since the divorce, let alone ridiculously attractive men wearing eyeliner in dark hallways who looked about ready to eat him alive.

His only excuse for what happened next was he was taken completely and totally by surprise.

Strong, thick fingers wove through his hair and together with the hand that sprawled across his lower back, tugged him forward to waiting lips. They met his own, strong and sure, and parted so that a searching tongue could dart out to lick across his own trembling lower lip, requesting access.

With a gasp Anakin responded enthusiastically, not just granting entry but sucking on the questing tongue that slipped into his mouth like he was starving and intended to swallow him whole. Moaning messily into the increasingly wet kiss, if the sloppy movements could even be called that; they’d already turned into something more, something obscene.