Hetalia Seven Minutes In Heaven France

      Smiling happily, America stepped away from the center of the room and took your hand in his. “Hey there baby, you probably already know this, but it's your turn to play this little game of mine.” He winked. “Get up there and have yourself some fun.”

With a nod, you walked up to the center of the room and placed your hand into the hat. Immediately your hand was covered in a sticky, unknown liquid. "What the heck is this?" Disgusted, you pulled your hand out of the hat to find not an item, but a sticky, red substance covering your hand. "So, this is a bit odd. Who's is this?"

"Oh! Ma chérie that would be mine.” Grinning crookedly, France rose from his seat and slowly sauntered over to where you were standing. “You see, I had nothing to put in the hat, so I just poured a bit of wine in there. Oh hon hon hon hon, clever, no?"

You shook your head. "Wouldn't everyone get their hands all sticky then?"

"Defies the natural laws of nature, time, and space, does it not. But such a feat is to be expected from Moi. Here, I can't have you all sticky can I?" He handed you something to clean your hand with. "Now, into the closet with us." France kisses your hand and takes you into the closet.

"Okay now creeps, only seven minutes. No time for getting too funky." With his warning, America locked the door. The closet quickly turned dark, and France made his move.

"Ma chérie, shall we feel our way? Oh hon hon hon hon!" France felt his way to you and landed his hands on your chest. "Found you! Oh hon, so soft, yet firm." He moved his face into your neck and began to tease you there.

"F-France." Shocked by his sudden movements, you stood there completely frozen, unable to speak, only stutter."

"Ma chérie? Are you okay? You seem a bit, uneasy. Shall I loosen your clothes for you?" Before he'd given you even a second to respond, he placed his hands on the hem of your shirt and readied to lift it over your head.

You took a deep breath and found your voice. "France, would you mind not fan boy tackling me? I may be in this closet with you, but that doesn't mean I want you to molest me."

France was stunned. "But, Mon Amour, I thought, I thought you and I were-." He stopped there, embarrassed.

"You thought what? That because you're…you, I'd fall all over you?" You crossed your arms with a less than impressed look on your face.

"No Amour, I thought you knew I loved you." A deep blush covered France's face. "I suppose I should have said so, but people are always saying that actions speak louder than words."

"You, love me?" Hearing him say that really hit you hard. France loved you, and it was about time he'd maned up and told you so instead of just expecting you to know. " I love you too." You knew you were red all over, your cheeks actually burned.

"Ah my belle! Is it so? Then I may caress you now? Oh hon hon." France brought you back into his arms and kissed you lovingly. "Ah my doux, never make me leave your warm, sweet embrace again."  He kissed you again licking your lip gently, wanting to deepen the kiss. Unfortunately before he could light flooded the closet.

"Hey, you two are still dressed, and standing. It's a miracle everyone, or a sign of the apocalypse. Now get out it's someone else's turn."  America wiggled his brow's at you and pulled another girl up to draw from the hat.