Tom Hardy Imagines

Alfies little pet Part 2

The office was particularly cold today due to the harsh weather outside. Despite everyone's best attempt to keep the establishment warm by keeping all doors and windows sealed shut and the warm generator in the building turned on, the cold had managed to seep inside the workplace and wrap its tender arms around the occupants. Each time the front door was whisked open and men piled into the building in order to get to work, gusts of wind accompanied them, filling the distillery with the chill that nobody wanted.

Luckily for you, Alfie had ensured you were properly bundled up before the two of you left the house. The dress you wore wasn't short, for he found it inappropriate for weather that would make you ill. The one you wore was a dark shade of green, long and flared at the waist. A border of black lace lined the material, pretty and silky as it emroidered the front. The dress wasn't enough though. And neither was the black coat you'd dragged on to your shoulders. Alfie had tied a dark, plaid, itchy scarf securely around your neck and had then pulled a beanie on to your head which practically blinded you due to how low it fell over your eyebrows. Your ears were red, your forehead needed to be desperately scratched due to being suffocated by the cloth and your hair was surely sweaty and stuck flat, almost squished against the center of your head. The beanie needed to be removed, but you had to ask first. He'd bundled you up for a reason.

"I don't need all these clothes on." You pouted. The sofa in the corner of the office was packed full of paperwork. The files were disorganized and slung about, but it wasn't your responsibility to sort through them. Your task was simple. 'Sit still, be good, and stay warm', was what Alfie had said before moving behind the large, wooden desk which sat about four feet away. "I'm too hot." You fussed. The man lifted his icy blue eyes toward you to inspect what the hell you were whining about. Your cheeks looked like they had a hint of warmth to them and your parted lips released soft, shaky exhales.

"Off with the scarf then, pet. Right, and you can take that fucking hat off too, it's a bit hot, innit, with all those fucking clothes on. No more whining though, yeah." The glasses he wore refused to stay in place as he tipped his head down toward his work, but kept his eyes fixated on you, peering over the tops of the clean lenses. You obeyed the second he gave you permission to rid of the articles. Throwing the gray beanie down on the cushion at your side, you unwrapped the scarf and bunched it up before dropping it at your side. The button on the front of your coat unpopped swiftly.

"May I please take off my coat too? I feel like I'm overheating, daddy." Your lower lip stuck out to show the man just how uncomfortable you were. He scrutinized you for a moment before adjusting himself in his chair. The furniture creaked as he leaned back further. He didn't want all the men in the shop to eye you and he knew for a fact that if he let you saunter about with nothing but a dress on, which poorly covered your breasts, then he'd be snapping this way and that.

"If you take your coat off, right, you stay in this fucking office. If there's a knock on the door, you drag your coat, right, yeah, back on to your body." His hand lifted before curling into a fist. Extending his pointer finger toward you so that it was evident that he was making himself clear, he stood. The chains that hung from the waistline of his trousers, down against the side of his thigh, jingled quietly. The noise was calming seeing as that was what you heard every night when you were tucked away in bed and he was arriving home late from work. Very rarely did he let you stay home late all on your own, on those particular days, he came through the door already apologetic and ready to give you as much affection as he could. On most days though, when he knew work would require his presence long after the sun had bid the city goodnight, he would bring you in with him. His rules were meant to be obeyed and when in the workplace, it was very important to behave. You did, for the most part. But when you grew hungry, you grew whiny. And if you were horny, you were needy. When you needed attention, the man would heave a heavy sigh. He knew how needy his little baby was and it didn't annoy him in the slightest, he just hated how much work required his attention too. His lips parted, fixing to ask if you were alright and check to see if you needed anything else, but the door to his left jiggled beneath the knuckles of whomever stood on the other side. Alfie watched you hurriedly snatch the coat you'd just hauled off and tug it back on to your body. The tip of your chin dipped inside the material as you absorbed the warmth that had been agitating you only seconds ago.