Work Text:
Fyodor has always felt an attachment to his hat, an attachment that seemed to only grow stronger as the years passed. This attachment most likely developed due to how frequently Fyodor traveled. The ushanka hat was an iconic part of the Russian culture. It’s easily recognisable and any foreigner was bound to see it as the symbol of Russia. It was because of those very reasons that Fyodor had chosen to take it with him whilst he was on his travels and far away from home. His hat reminded him of his home and all the warmth that came with it. It was a small fragment of what home meant to him, a fragment that never failed to remind him of where he was from.
. . .
It had been a rather tiring day for Fyodor. He became so occupied and engrossed within his work that Fyodor managed to completely ignore his arousal, at first that is. It was only after he had finished his work that his arousal became unbearable. The longer he had ignored it and purposely distracted himself with work, the more frustrated he grew. The pressure of the long and tiring day began to weigh heavy on his shoulders, and his arousal was the only thing on his mind now. He surely deserved to treat himself to something, right? Something to finally alleviate this stress and bring this bothersome day to an end.
He wasn’t the type of man to often indulge in such filthy vice and only occasionally allowed himself to engage in such an act. After all, someone like him, who was equal to that of a God didn’t need something as sinful and stupid as masturbation. It was something only a foolish and lustful man was capable of, and Fyodor was above that of any man.
As the realisation that he wouldn’t be able withstand his arousal much longer finally sunk in, Fyodor quickly realised what he must do. Slightly annoyed, he looked around for something to quickly relieve him of his stress and his gaze promptly landed on his poor and unfortunate hat. Thinking nothing much of it he grasped his hat and eagerly began to unbuckle his belt.
It was only then that he had started to feel some sort of feeling equivalent to guilt.
Perhaps he was more human than he had initially thought to be? He furrowed his brows in confusion and tried to convince himself that he was still equivalent to that of a God. After all, God is permitted to do anything he wishes and even God himself sometimes has to indulge in his own desires.
Fyodor didn’t waste anymore time and began to stroke his erection. Even he couldn’t deny the fact that doing this brought him not only great pleasure but also extreme satisfaction.
He then wrapped his hat around his fully erect phallus, and began to slowly inch it up and down.
His breath hitched as his pace increased, he kept his grunts quiet as to avoid anyone getting suspicious of him. But he soon realised that he was unable to contain himself for much longer. Occasionally allowing himself to slip out a louder groan.
The mix of the soft fabric and his own body heat radiating back onto him had created an environment that no one would be able to withstand. He began to speed up his hand movements and began to stroke his phallus at a more extreme pace. The sentiment the hat held made him even more so excited and he could only helplessly chase after his own release.
The room was filled with grunts that gradually became more rapid and noisy.
He was chasing something that felt so far away yet so close at the same time, Fyodor helplessly tried clinging onto that feeling of euphoria of his, trying his best to not let it escape from his grasp. The feeling of drowning in his own pleasure started to feel too good, so good in fact, that he had begun to question his own authority, would a God be carrying out such a deed? Would a God allow themselves to get this carried away?
Fyodor however, quickly dismissed the thought as his growing hunger for reaching his own orgasm became stronger.
His hand strokes increased and became more and more relentless. He no longer cared about the volume of his moans and became progressively more careless, only caring about being able to reach that sweet release of his.
He continued this for a while longer until his strokes abruptly ceased. His jaw hung open and he threw his head back, arching his back ever so slightly as he came and released his seed into the hat, soaking it completely. He let out one last moan before collapsing back onto his chair. He tossed the hat onto his desk dismissively and frowned at the thought of having to clean it. He couldn’t even possibly ask Ivan to do it, that would be too unethical, even for him.
After resting and coming to terms with what he had done, Fyodor finally stood up and grabbed his hat with the intention of washing it, yet as he stood up and turned to face the direction of the doorway he froze with horror, unable to utter another word.
There in his doorway stood Ivan, looking somewhat, concerned.
Fyodor stood their motionless, still tightly grasping onto his hat, trying to think of anything to say that would excuse him or even offer an explanation.
“Shall I wash that for you master?” Ivan finally asked.