Red Lace- A France one-shot

A naughty France had been waiting for Toronto outside her door for an hour now. What was he doing? Waiting for her to come out of her room to see the little "gift" he had left for her. Pranking her was his favorite. The sweet pleasure that would run through his body when he saw her flustered face in that lacy fabric would be nothing short of entertaining.

He had taken all her clothes the previous night, while she was sleeping, and hid them. He came in this morning while she showered and removed the nightclothes she had left on the bathroom counter and kept them. In their place, he left the lacy outfit in her drawer with a note. And if the poor Toronto wanted her clothes back, she would have to come out in that outfit. France smirked at this, but frowned a little as he had been waiting awhile. 'She'd have to come out soon,' he thought, 'If she wants her clothes that is.' He looked down at the nightgown he was holding and smirked. 'And it would be a problem if she refused to wear such a fine clothing. Else she would come out in nothing or a towel,' France gave another dirty smirk, 'However, I wouldn't object if she did.'

Meanwhile on the other side of the door, Toronto had finished taking a shower and drying off. She let her dirty blonde wavy hair out of its bun as it fell to the middle of her back. She applied lotion to her creamy skin and applied moisturizer around her light green eyes. She then went to reach for her nightgown only to find it missing. She raised a confused brow. She was sure she had it there, yet she shrugged it off and wrapped her hourglass body in a crème-colored towel. She walked over to her drawer to grab some underwear. But when she opened it, all she could fine was a red lacy outfit and a note. She raised an eyebrow in confusion and lifted the lacy contents from the drawer. In her fingers she found a red French silk lace deep v tank top with matching panties. It was nice except far too revealing for her taste. The lace extended across where the breast were and down the deep v. She picked up the note and read, 'For you.' She dropped the note and decided to try on the outfit.

When she put it on the lace had extended across the breast, down the v cut about a little before her naval. The sides of the tank were plain silk and the only thing revealing was her breast and the skin in the deep v where the lace was. She looked over at the underwear and picked it up and when she saw it she threw it on the floor in disgust. They were bikini briefs with lace on the edges and with a rather thin mid lining that surely anyone could classify as a thong. She ripped the shirt off over her head.

She looked through the other drawers to find something more like her, however she could find nothing. She searched through her walk in closets and found them just as empty. 'What? Where are my clothes?' she thought as she looked again. She sat on her bed and realized that all her clothes were missing and the only thing she could wear was that highly provocative outfit. And surely she couldn't wear that right? She was in a house full of men. She couldn't run around wearing that. However, she couldn't go out in nothing, and just a towel. What was she going to do?

A naughty France, however, was still waiting a bit impatiently outside the door smirking to his self. 'It is only a matter of time before she comes out of her room. But it pains me to wait so long.' He thought.

Toronto sighed. There was no way she could do it but it was that outfit or nothing. She sighed and put the tank top back on and took one disgusted look at the thonged briefs and slipped them on before also applying her towel and tying it tight so that it would not fall off. She walked slowly to the door and turned the knob.

France saw this and looked with joyful anticipation. Toronto opened the door slightly and popped her head out. She saw France standing there, "Oh Hello Francis. Listen, could you-"She stopped in mid-sentence. In his hands she saw the midnight blue cotton fabric of her nightgown and her jaw dropped. It was silent for a moment and France was enjoying every minute of it. Her face was flustered mixing with furious blushing and anger as she realized that he was the one who hid all her clothes. 'Of course,' She thought, 'only one person would get me something as provocative as this outfit.' After a moment, she spoke up, "Francis, that better not be what I think it is," France gave a dirty smile, "Oh non Cherie, these are indeed your clothes-"

"Give them back," Toronto pushed her hand through the door's opening. France shook his head with a very naughty smirk, "If you want these, Cherie," He held them up, "You'll have to come out here and get them."

Toronto's eyes widened, "France…" was all she could say before He was off down the long hallway. "FRANCE!" She yelled. She looked down at herself once again and growled. She ran off after France screaming profanity at France threatening him if he didn't give her clothes back. One of them had to do with beating him up so bad, when she was done he would look like a *choux.

"FRANCE, GET BACK HERE!" She yelled as she saw the blonde run further down the hall. As she continued running she saw France turn a corner, but when she got there he was nowhere in sight. She stopped and bent over to catch a breath but when she did her towel dropped to the floor revealing the shameful contents she wished to hide.

Little did she know a naughty France was watching. All of a sudden a pair of arm surrounded her waist and breath in her ear, "Oh, what have we here ," she was pulled into a corner, "This is nice, Cherie. You should wear it more often," France gave a low chuckle in her ear. She blushed furiously, "Give me my clothes back!" She said to him hitting him on his thigh. However, he only tightened his grip on her with one arm and began small ministrations on her thigh and feeling up her sides, "I don't think so Cherie." France kissed the side of her neck. Though Toronto had known France for some time, and they were practically lovers, never had she felt what she did right at that moment. Toronto froze completely. She couldn't speak, she couldn't move, she couldn't breathe. She was completely immobile. France continued moving his hands up and her sides while nibbling here and there on her neck.

"Do you think," France whispered lowly in her ear, "we should go to a more private room?" Toronto, so immobilized, did not answer. She did not agree nor did she protest. Neither did she agree or protest when France had led her to his room, nor when France had pushed on to the bed. No, she had not said one word.

Though her mind was racing, she had not said one thing until France's smooth clever hands moved to the straps of her lacy underwear. If wearing this, she thought, is where it got her with him, "Francis?" she spoke softly as her fingers tangled in his blonde locks. France looked up at her, "Hmmm?" He hummed as a sly smile lied on his lips as their eyes met. She returned the smile, "Thanks for the gift."

Then maybe she would wear it more often

~Extended Ending~

Italy had been doing some "super-secret -spy" work or so he had called it. Actually he was sent by Germany to get information on France as Germany was planning an attack. So ever the optimistic Italy, snuck into France's room. He hummed a happy tune as he looked around for anything that would be good to use against France.

Italy searched behind France's desk and found some journal entries, however nothing he could use. He searched around France's bed but to see if there was anything France left under his pillow but all Italy found was a strange balloon in that he found in between the sheets. Italy lifted it up, "Ve, what's this?" Italy looked closer, "Francy-pants has been blowing up balloons? Could he have had a party and not invited me?" Italy dropped the content on the floor and noticed a red fabric sticking out from under the bed. He lifted up a lacy piece of underwear, "Huh?" Italy studied the lacy fabric, "I wonder what Germany-"

"PUT THAT DOWN!" France walked in and snatched the lacy clothing out of Italy's hand, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?" Italy ran out the door, "Ahhh! GERMANY! GERMANY!" France chased him smacking him on the head every few feet he ran into Italy, "I BETTER NOT CATCH YOU IN THERE AGAIN OR-" France ramble on and on shouting swears and threats at Italy. They ran through the front door.

"GERMANY! GERMANY! HELPA ME!" Italy came running flailing his arms with a terrified look on his face. Germany looked up, "What?" Germany's eyes widened as he saw France behind him with some red fabric in his hand, yet he stepped out of the way and put a hand to his forehead, "I asked you to do a simple task, Italy, but it seems you couldn't even do that." Germany looked at the ground and saw the red clothing. He stared at it, "What is this?" He picked it up. As he realized what it was, he dropped it immediately and slapped a hand on his forehead, "YOU DAMN IMBECILES!" Germany shouted at Italy and France.

In the background you could still here Italy shouting for Germany's help and France still shouting swears and threats.

Little did they know, a curious Toronto had been watching and giggling from the porch.

*Choux- a twisty french pastry.

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HASTA LA PASTA

~IGABPHA~