Yup. There's some kissing in here, there is! I like writing those kinds of scenes :p

I tapped my foot impatiently on the cement porch as I leaned against the metal railing, arms crossed. I already knocked on the door and here, three minutes later, was still standing in the rain. Under the roof, at least. I was still shivering from my run through the streets of Paris though. 'If Francis doesn't come to the door this minute, I swear I'm going to walk in uninvited.'
And true to my words nearly thirty seconds later, I sighed and stood straight, twisting the doorknob. To my surprise it was unlocked, which proved the Frenchman was home. I slipped inside the house, noticing it was pitch black. The darkness in here was nothing compared to the blackness of the sky outside.
Earlier, as I ran, I noticed a few strikes of lightning, so it was possible that the power was out. But still, he at least could have lit a candle! Luckily I had a lighter in my pocket, which created a small enough flame that I could look for one of the candleholders on the wall, or one on a table.
Despite having electricity in his home, Francis said he liked the look of the iron candlesticks and would feel strange if they weren't there like they were years back. I grabbed the first stick I found, which came off the wall. The iron felt cool in my hand as I brought the lighter up towards the middle candle, then the others. I was still cold from my dash through the heavy rain, and just noticed how cold the interior of France's house was. My teeth chattered as I set off down a hallway, searching for him.
"Francis," I muttered. "Doesn't even notice when someone walks in the front door. Or knocks." I opened another door that led to the study. The fireplace was cold and empty, my candle being the only source of light as I examined the room. There was definitely no France is here, I thought as I shut the door quietly. I managed to explore three more rooms before I found the staircase that took me to the top floor. The stairs creaked as I took each step.
'His house is creepy at night.' I gulped as I reached the top. I could swear I heard footsteps following me as I walked down the hall. They stopped as soon as I did. 'Must be an echo then... Or... Something...' I gulped, sure I was slightly paler than when I had arrived.
"F-Francis, you here?" I called out. My voice shook, though I didn't know why, as it echoed down the hallway. A fwoosh of air sounded behind me, and I turned quickly to see what looked like a white cape disappear around the corner. Shaking, I took a step back. This is how it always starts, I thought, turning again and heading for the stairs.
A clap of thunder made me jump, but I pressed on. The staircase was in sight. A smile formed on my face but it froze when I felt something grab at me from behind, sliding its hand over the candlestick and another over my mouth.
"Looking for me?" France whispered in my ear. I let out my breath and jerked away from him angrily.
"France! You scared me, acting all ghostly and everything!"
"I am sorry, mon amour." He said, reaching out to touch my shoulder. "Can you forgive me?"
I huffed, crossing my arm after setting the candle down on one of his tables. "If you can find a way to make it up to me, then I'll consider it." Francis pouted, doing his best to appear hurt. I rolled my eyes, not about to give in that easily.
"Please...?" His plea came out as more of a whine.
"Nope." I turned my head away, watching the candle flame flicker. I didn't move when France took a step closer, watching curiously from the corner of my eye. I didn't react when he slipped behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
"Is there anything... specific you want?" I couldn't help but shiver then as he nibbled my ear. I swallowed, shaking my head. "I see..." My heart sped up and I leaned back slightly as he continued torturing my ear with his teeth.

-PoV switch because I can-

I smirked, moving away from his ear and towards his neck, sucking lightly. He leaned back further. I took that as I sign I was going in the right general direction and continued, sliding down his neck, nipping his cold skin with my teeth every here and there until his jacket got in the way. That's when I realized how wet he was.
"Alfred... You're soaked..." I pulled back, spinning him around to face me. "I will allow you to borrow something of mine..." He nodded, looking down to his wet clothing. I wondered how I could have missed the fact he was dripping water all over the place.
I wiped a bit of water off my face from where I'd brushed his hair as I led him down the hall to my room and to the closet. It was a walk in, of course. How else would I accommodate all of my clothing?
I told Alfred to take a seat on a chair in the back as I searched for something warm. 'It's not easy to search with a candle.'
I thought I'd go for the national colours, or something like that when I came across a plain brown shirt with tan accents. It almost matched his jacket, so I slung it over my arm and searched for pants to go with it. My search provided me with a nice pair of trews I received from Scotland. The plaid pattern matched the shirt, and would serve to warm him up, as I realized he'd begun to shiver.
"These should warm you up nicely, mon amour." I placed the clothing on a shelf beside the chair as Alfred regained his feet. He fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, frowning as it disobeyed him. I reached for it and slowly pulled it down, until it was unzipped all the way.
"I could have done that myself you know." He said, slipping the wet jacket off and going for his t-shirt. The wet fabric clung to him, making it difficult to pull off. "Damn rain..." He muttered.
"Let me help..." I whispered, gripping the edge of his shirt, lifting it slowly, an inch at a time. He blinked at me, a light blush dusting his cheeks. "So... There was a reason you came to see me?" I asked, stopping halfway.
"Erm... I think there was..." He replied thoughtfully. "I don't remember what though..."
"Hmm..." I finally went about removing his wet shirt, reaching for the dry one as I dropped the first. "Hope it wasn't important." I held the shirt up and he slid one arm in the sleeve, spinning slowly to put the other arm in its respective sleeve.
"Thanks." He said, fiddling with the buttons. As he reached the last one, I stopped his hands and fixed it myself, leaning in to peck his nose. My hands trailed down farther, smoothing his new shirt and setting on the button of his pants.
"Need help with these too?"
"No!" He grabbed my hands, holding them back. "God, you're such a pervert..." He rolled his eyes at me when I pouted again.
"Aww... Please, Alfred? I promise I'll be good!" I managed to free my hands and set them on his hips, my thumbs sliding through the belt loops.
"I can change my pants on my own!" He protested, glaring.
"Hmm... really?" I leaned in again and kissed him lightly, not lingering for more than a moment. He blinked at me and replied with the same answer.
"Just turn around or leave the closet while I change." He mumbled. "Preferably the latter."
"Oh fine..." I sighed, kissing him again before I pulled away and walked out of the closet. I sat on my bed and waited, listening to him curse his wet pants.
"Hey Francis." He called. "Where did you get these pants?"
I blinked, remembering the trews. "They're from Ianto." I answered. "Birthday gift or something..."
"Uhg... Least they're warm." Alfred walked out of the closet with his wet clothing in hand. "What should I do with these?"
"Here, let me see them..." I stood up and crossed the room, taking the wet clothes. He followed me as I left the room, heading for the bathroom. Once there I rung out the shirt and set it over the towel bar, the jacket and pants following. Then I turned back to examine him in his new clothes. The candle flames altered the colour a little, but they looked good. Really good. Drop-dead-gorgeous good.
Without a word, I pushed him against the wall, brushing my lips against his. I smirked as he let out a surprised squeak of sorts, allowing me to slip my tongue in. I watched his expression as his eyes closed, the blush returning.
After a second or so he responded, fighting against me with his tongue. I may have been the one to start off, but forgot his strength and soon found myself losing the battle as he took control.
How fast the tables could turn. I now found myself the one pressed against the wall. Alfred's fingers threaded through my hair, my hands back at his sides, roaming freely, travelling lower and lower...