First Poland/Lithuania fic. Poland tops. Please do not read if you're easily offended by religious referrences...or sex on an altar for that matter. ^^;

Leviathan

Poland knows that he is not the most serious of nations. He would fight if forced to but even he admits that he prefers to take things easy and relax whenever possible. What was the use of getting worked up over the little things?

However, if there is one thing he takes seriously it is religion. Perhaps other nations would be surprised to know the extent of his faith but, in Poland's mind, a potentially immortal being with a population of millions of people in their hands has twice as much reason believe in God. More so than a human whose life was, to the point of a nation at least, essentially wham, bam, thank you ma'am, and over in the blink of an eye.

He knows he is not the strictest of Catholics. Oh no, the grumpy South Italy takes that crown of glory, but he does his daily observances. He is a good Catholic; he says his Hail Marys, eats fish on Friday, takes note of and celebrates, Easter, Christmas, and Lent.

Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with thee.

Lately, however, he finds that he is becoming increasingly aware of his faith, and not in a good way.

He does not know when it happened – when the devil got into him, he thinks dryly – but every now and then something will rear up inside of him; an angry beast not forcing but enticing him to temptation with sweet words and a beckoning finger.

Poland knows what it wants. It wants sex and pleasure, desire, sloth and every concupiscable sin under the sun. It wants Lithuania.

It roars whenever he is with Lithuania. It howls at every touch between them – and Poland always has an excuse to hug, hold or brush a hand over Lithuania's shoulders. It whimpers with need when they talk.

Once, Poland found himself watching Lithuania closely when they went to Mass, waiting for a flick of brown hair, an uncertain lick of the lips, tongue peeking out oh so temptingly and in perfect innocence, a tilt of the head when he was confused, exposing the flesh of his neck normally hidden behind a curtain of hair.

The beast went insane. It forced in his mind all the things he could do with that hair, those lips, that neck, where he might bite or lick or suck, pinch, stroke, cuddle, kiss and then, further down, to Lithuania's navel, his butt, his cock...

Nights were such a torture. The days he could handle. During the days Poland can just smile, throw in a few 'yeah, I totally know' and 'like, of course!'s and no one will be any the wiser. The nights, however, were the beast's time, and Poland bit his lip and fought with the thing inside him by refusing to touch himself anywhere.

XX

He knew that meeting up after Mass was a bad idea. He knew that, but the beast liked it. The beast wanted him to meet Lithuania and it would have been odd if he had said no to his friend, it would have worried him and Poland does not want to be the cause of concern. That is why none of this is his fault, he resolutely tells himself as he lingers on the bench while the congregation empties itself. This is not his fault at all.

The cathedral is completely empty by the time Lithuania takes a seat next to him – too close for comfort – even the deacon has gone home for the day.

'So, how did you like it?' Lithuania asks him, smiling just wide enough to show the front teeth, voice like honey trilling up his spine –

Smile, Poland, smile. Make eye contact and smile.

'It was, like, totally boring! The guy was so stuffy and he droned on and on. I swear I would have totally fallen asleep if it wasn't for - '

He stops himself just in time. No need to tell the world that he spent the whole of Mass staring at the back of Lithuania's head.

Lithuania laughs lightly and Poland blushes red. 'It was interesting!' he insists. 'Well, as interesting as it can be. I'm glad that we don't have to hear about righteous wrath and hellfire all the time.'

Poland is inclined to agree because, the way things are going, he is sure he will be on the receiving end of that wrath and hellfire.

He gets up and walks to the altar because Lithuania is sitting too close; the proximity is inciting the beast to angry rebellion. 'But, you know, those bits are the only bits that are, like, totally interesting!'

Lithuania gets up and, to his dismay, joins him there. Behind the altar is a human-sized statue of the Virgin Mary. Poland can feel her downcast eyes burning him. He sneaks a peek to the side at where Lithuania is standing and notices that he is wearing blue.

Poland gulps around the lump in his throat.

The colour of the Virgin.

He does not know if Lithuania is a virgin or not and does not really care either way but the beast does. The beast seems to think that it would be good to take him here and now, in front of the eyes of God and deflower him so deliciously that –

'Stop!' Poland hears his own voice ringing up to the arched ceiling. He stands there for a moment trying to register what he has just done and Lithuania stares at him in shock.

'A – Are you okay? Your face is red."

Poland can feel his face burning with embarrassment. For once he does not know how to laugh it off as usual. He feels Mary's marble eyes watching him.

The Virgin Mary is watching. She sees your sin, she knows your wicked thoughts.

The beast feels victory coming and roars in triumph. Poland knows as the last remnants of restraint slip away that he has lost not just the battle but the war. He cannot fight it.

Canst thou draw out Leviathan with a hook?

He cannot. How is he supposed to defeat this beast, how can he draw the monster out when it is far bigger and more deadly than the Leviathan? The beast grins with delight and takes his hand. Come, I will take you to the Bower of Bliss

And Poland goes willingly.

Lithuania slips a hand beneath his blond bangs, asking; 'Are you okay?' Physical contact is deadly.

Grabbing Lithuania's shoulders, Poland whirls him around, pushing him against the altar. Staring down at him, Poland can just about register the shock in Lithuania's expression but he does not realise that he is trembling until he hears his name being called.

A hand reaches up and touches the side of his cheek. Lithuania smiles nervously. Although Poland has been Catholic far longer than he has, he still has enough sense to know that what they are doing – about to do – is blasphemous. Nevertheless he smiles a little and in his eyes there is a look of trust that tells Poland that he would go along with it if Poland is sure, if Poland knows what he is doing.

It is too bad that he does not.

In fact, Poland does not think he has ever been quite this terrified in his life. Nevertheless, the beast takes his hands and guides them to in the task of ridding Lithuania of his shirt.

'Are you...' Lithuania begins to ask but he silences him with a kiss. Better not to ask, better not to say anything really.

He clamps down on a nipple and sucks hard enough. Lithuania squirms and cries out underneath him, delicious cries. Cries that echo in the hollowness of the cathedral. Cries that can make Poland hard and do so.

He sucks hard, leaving marks of shame like a treasure trail from neck to navel, pulling down Lithuania's pants to finger the hardness there, spreading his legs and kissing him there, up the trail of marks to the sweet mouth that moans in pleasure against his lips. Poland grinds their hips together so that the hot friction drives out the 'no, no, no, no' under his mind's resounding cry of 'yes, oh God, yes, yes, yes.'

He does not bother to think. Poland feels his cock aching with need as he inserts a finger into Lithuania, stretching. Condoms? Lubricant? He has not come prepared at all. Why would he bring those things to Mass anyway?

Well, it is not as if they can get pregnant or catch a disease. Let it hurt, he thinks. It will be their penance.

'Ahh P – Poland,' Lithuania is calling for him. He wants him inside. Now. He is ready. Quick, quick, hurry. For the love of God, please, before he has to beg.

Poland lifts Lithuania's legs and plunges in. Still tight. Lithuania screams in what could be pain or ecstasy.

Jesus, Holy Mary, Mother of God!

Lithuania's blasphemous curses make his heart race. He plunges in to the hilt, driven delirious by their sweet cries that echo in the empty hall. He thinks he is probably as mad as the wild men of Gadaranes, but there is no exorcism for him.

For he said unto him, Come out of the man, thou unclean spirit

There is no saving him now. Sunlight shining through the stain glass windows dyes Lithuania green and blue. Poland can see his forearms yellow like the hair of one of the apostles. He looks up to see the Virgin shining and he thrusts.

His nails bite into Lithuania's leg, the other hand gripping the edge of the altar to steady himself; thrusting in, harder each time, deeper, as if in search for something to quench this insatiable lust.

The flesh is weak. Poland squeezes his eyes shut and prays for forgiveness. Since he cannot stop he prays.

'Ah – ahhh! P – Poland!' he hears Lithuania gasp. Oh God, he feels like he is drowning in this pleasure, in the tight friction that sears him as he moves inside of Lithuania, in the sounds he makes when he moans his name and the touch of his hot breath against his ear.

'Oh God, forgive me!' Poland moans against sweat stained skin.

One 'forgive me' along the thigh, one 'please forgive me' against Lithuania's right nipple and then again, at the tip of his cock.

'The Lord is my shepherd,' he prays. 'I will not want...'

He wanted this so badly. Oh God how he wanted this, was almost driven insane with the want. Oh how he wanted to see Lithuania under him as he has now, covered in love bites, dark brown hair pressed against his face with sweat, squirming beneath him, moaning his name with need. Oh God, how he had wanted this.

'He leads me to pastures green...'

The beast leads him to a climax, deafening him so that all he hears are those delicious cries, those blasphemous cries as they desecrate the altar with their lust.

'He leads me beside quiet waters! He restores my soul!'

Could they not be a little quieter? Their shouts are magnified by the walls of the cathedral, amplified to a hundred so that the walls almost shake. 'Oh God, I'm going to cum!' Lithuania screams, clutching on to him, nails digging into Poland's back. 'Oh God, I'm going to – I'm going to – !'

Poland can feel himself shouting now, louder than before, shouting as his mind threatens to tip over into the abyss.

'He guides me to the path of righteousness for his name's sake!'

'Ah, God! P – Poland, not so f – fast! I can't - '

'Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for you are with me!'

'P – Poland!'

'Y – Your rod, your staff, they comfort me!'

Poland pulls out the moment he cums, spraying Lithuania's stomach and a good portion of the altar with his sin. Breathing heavily, he collapses against Lithuania, who expels a loud sigh and drops his head back against the altar, arms spread wide like a human sacrifice.

Poland mumbles out the rest of the prayer with a hollow voice. Their bodies feel sticky. Skin against skin is melting into one and the smell of sex invades his nose.

The beast is quiet.

He hears Lithuania panting and wonders which one of them will speak first. Poland looks up to judge his expression but when he does he sees a red Lithuania.

The shining sun has shifted and now casts light through the pink window, its light enhancing the rays so that they glow red. Poland's breath catches in his throat. It looks as if Lithuania is being consumed by hell fire and, looking down, he sees that the same fiery shade covers him as well.

Serious!Poland is so hard to write!

References

Job 41:1 – Canst thou draw out Leviathan with a hook?

Psalm 23 – The Lord is my shepherd...etc

Mark 5:13 - For he said unto him, Come out of the man, thou unclean spirit

Luke 1:28 – Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with thee

Ave Maria – Jesus, Holy Mary, Mother of God...etc