Only Angel [FP Jones x OC]

One

She rolled in with the bitter end, pushing the front door wide open to a bar named the Whyte Wyrm. The atmosphere was dense with stale tobacco smoke and strong whiffs of whisky.

Men in leather jackets were packed around tables and the bar, each one talking a bit louder than the other to be heard. It gave the whole bar a loud clamoring vibration, one that the girl willfully ignored as she sauntered to the bar.

Her boots clicked against the cement floor as the sway of her hips caught the attention of a few men. She leaned against the bar, arms crossed on the sticky counter as she elongated her back, giving the men behind her a view of her in leather shorts.

The bartender barely spared her a glance, busy in a conversation with his other patrons. While her patience grew thin, a few men started to whistle in her direction, wanting her to know that her wait was not for nothing.

The girl stood up straight and cleared her throat, blowing away her bangs in the process before hiking her boot on the foot bar. The whistling and gawking slowly died down with the change of atmosphere. Warmth of the senses around them turned chilling in an instant as a man slipped in close beside the girl.

He glanced down at her, seeing her attention purposefully averted directly forward, then leaned across the bar to grab a cheap bottle of bourbon and a glass.

"He ain't comin' over here, you know." The man spoke raspily, pouring enough bourbon, almost to the brim.

The girl remained silent for a moment before sighing.

"I figured as much."

She stole a quick glance to the man beside her, then tried to piece together the features she caught. The man grabbed the glass and set it in front of the girl before leaning across the bar to grab a beer.

The girl looked up at the man as he popped the cap from his bottle. She raised her eyebrows at him, refraining the urge to ogle him from head to toe. He was a rustic older man, more pepper in his beard than salt, and stone coal eyes. He looked suspicious of everything and worn down by the liquor and cigarettes.

She gulped, turning away from him to grab her drink.

"You not from around here?"

The girl scoffed, taking a pull from her liquor before turning to the rugged man beside her.

"Is that so obvious?"

The man nodded with a chuckle, "Just a bit. Nobody's seen a pretty girl like you out here."

"Bullshit." The girl turned her entire body to the man, holding her glass in her hands as she grinned.

"Swear." The man grinned back, "FP." 

He held his hand out casually and it took the girl a second before she realized he was offering his name.

"Seline." The girl took the man's hand in hers with a firm shake. "FP, huh? What's that mean?"

"Fucking pervert..." Seline whispered against FP's lips, gripping his leather jacket for dear life.

The rugged man hoisted Seline up to the grimy bathroom stall of the Wyrm, one hand roaming across her thigh and slowly up her shorts. She giggled breathlessly, reaching for FP's hand.

"Straight to the chase, huh?" She muttered against his lips before planting a heavy kiss on them.

FP didn't even bother to answer, pressing Seline closer to the wall of the stall as one hand unbuckled his belt. The girl's hands roamed across FP's chest with a hum, her teeth running over his bottom lip with an enticing purr.

"At least take me home first." Seline breathlessly added as she pulled from their kiss, causing FP to lean his head against her shoulder.

"That what you want? Let's go then."