A/N - This fic was originally just going to be a cute little humour fic...but it ended up becoming something perverted OTL I'm not even sure whether I should be asking 'what's wrong with me?' or 'what's oh so right with me?' XD Either way, enjoy the smut~

Anatomically Correct

"Hey Arthur, which city is your right nipple?"

Arthur turned to his bed partner in shock, caught completely off-guard by the question. Alfred was lying in the bed beside him, chin propped up on his palm, and staring thoughtfully at Arthur's bare chest as if the answers to the universe's greatest mysteries were hidden there. After pausing for a moment to try and force himself out of his post-sex stupor and into a mindset vaguely resembling something that could make sense of Alfred's question, Arthur failed miserably and instead replied with an ineloquent "What?"

"Well," Alfred said, shifting on the sheets and causing the shadows cast by the afternoon sun to subtly change their positions on his skin, "It is a city, right? And, I mean, everywhere on our bodies coincides to somewhere in our country, right?" Arthur briefly wondered who Alfred had been hanging around with to pick up the word 'coincide' before realising that it was probably him.

"Yes," he answered slowly, "But why the sudden interest? And why my nipple of all places?" Alfred shrugged with the one shoulder he wasn't lying on.

"I was just wondering," he said, which didn't really answer anything at all. "So are you gonna tell me?" Arthur just looked at him.

"The right one?" he asked after a moment of staring into Alfred's unrelenting curiosity. The younger nation nodded enthusiastically, and Arthur gave in and reluctantly said, "Manchester." The way Alfred's eyes lit up at this new knowledge was kind of creepy, Arthur thought, and then Alfred reached over and pointed to Arthur's left nipple.

"What about this one?" he demanded.

"Sheffield," Arthur said, feeling as though he had tumbled into some sort of surreal dream, although admittedly a feeling of being out of his depth wasn't all that uncommon when talking to the American nation. "Look, Alfred, what is this all about? Why the sudden interest in my body's geography?"

"I just want to know which parts of England I've been molesting," Alfred said brightly.

"That would be all of it then," Arthur pointed out, but Alfred shook his head impatiently.

"I want to know specifically," he said. Arthur raised an eyebrow somewhat uneasily.

"Is this some weird fetish or something?" he asked warily. Alfred shrugged.

"Maybe," he said, but distractedly as his gaze was roaming over Arthur's body again, trying to find a new spot to discover the geography of. He reached out and lazily trailed a finger up over Arthur's chest and then down his arm until it stopped at Arthur's right wrist, which he then took hold of and lifted into Arthur's line of vision. "What's here?" he asked.

"Chester," Arthur replied, and Alfred turned the wrist around, examining it closely as if expecting to find the Roman city in miniature on Arthur's skin.

"Huh," he said, and then Arthur's arm was allowed to drop back to the bed as Alfred's index finger made its way over the expanse of pale skin again. It followed the dip above Arthur's collar bone and then slid its way over his ribs to circle around his belly button, hovering curiously. Arthur squirmed a little as the feather-light touch tickled him.

"That's Nottingham," he said. Alfred's face lit up.

"Does that mean Robin Hood lived in your belly button?" he asked. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"If he existed, then I suppose he lived somewhere around there," he replied.

"That's so cool! I wish an outlaw had lived in my belly button," Alfred sighed, poking Arthur's stomach absentmindedly until the English nation grabbed his hand to put a stop to it. Alfred twined their fingers together in response, letting their clasped hands lie on Arthur's torso to gently rise and fall with his breathing. There was silence for a moment, and Arthur dared hope that this meant the subject had been dropped. That hope was dashed, however, when Alfred asked, "So what's the second toe on your left foot?" Arthur looked up hopelessly into the sky blue eyes that for once weren't covered with Texas.

"Seriously?" he asked weakly. Alfred pouted.

"Hey, you've had hundreds of years to think about it! You must know!" Arthur sighed and gave up.

"...Dover." Unfortunately, this was another place name that Alfred recognised.

"So the white cliffs of Dover are your toenail?" he asked delightedly.

"I guess so."

"That's awesome!" The worrying thing was that his enthusiasm was completely genuine, Arthur considered. But then Alfred seemed to refocus on his face and Arthur knew what was coming, even before the sly grin slowly widened over Alfred's lips.

"So..." he started in what he probably thought was an innocent tone of voice. "How much space do your eyebrows take up? I bet they're whole cities!" Arthur uneasily averted his eyes. He wondered how well Alfred knew England by now. He had never thought that the day would come when he would regret insisting that Alfred learn some geography besides that of his own country, and yet suddenly he was praying for Alfred's ignorance to still be intact.

"That's none of your business," he muttered, but this only incited Alfred's thirst for knowledge, and he started whining to be told and that it wasn't fair for Arthur to keep secrets from him, until Arthur got so sick of the whinging that he overcame his pre-emptive embarrassment. "All right!" he snapped. "The left one is Northumberland and the right one's Cumbria. Happy now?" There was a slight delay as Alfred tried to work out where these places were, and then he realised and collapsed back onto the bed, laughing so hard that Arthur hoped he would choke.

"Oh my God!" he managed to say, "I knew your eyebrows were big, Arthur, but each one is a whole county?" Arthur punched him in the stomach, which unfortunately didn't have much effect, and rolled over to hide his furious blush of shame. It wasn't his fault that he was rather well-endowed in the eyebrow department. Sulkily, he curled up on the bed and proceeded to ignore Alfred until the laughter died down.

Eventually, after a couple of false starts, calm managed to settle into Alfred again, and he gave a contented sigh of amusement that made Arthur's fists itch to wipe the smile off that idiot's face. But then Alfred wrapped an arm around him and nuzzled into his neck.

"I'm sorry," he said apologetically, "but you have to admit that it's kinda funny." Arthur kept up his stony silence, although he didn't object to Alfred spooning him. Alfred waited for a few seconds in case a delayed response was forthcoming, and then, realising that there wouldn't be one, he kissed Arthur lightly on the shoulder. "You know, I bet I can figure out where some places are," he said, and then he moved backwards, leaving Arthur to briefly miss the heat of Alfred's chest pressed against his back. Before he could complain, however, a warm wetness suddenly made him gasp as Alfred drew his tongue slowly up the top few inches of Arthur's spine.

"What do they call they backbone of England?" he mused, his breath making Arthur's skin tingle pleasantly as it lightly caressed the damp trail he had left in his wake. "It's a mountain range...the Pennines, right?" But he didn't wait for a reply, and instead slid the arm that was still wrapped around Arthur's waist up to his chest, pressing his palm flat directly over Arthur's heart, which had sped up its rhythmic beating as Alfred explored his body with mouth and hands. "And this is London, of course." But he didn't need to know any geography to know that, Arthur knew. The capital city was always the heart of a nation, regardless of where it was situated in the actual country.

Then Alfred was tugging at his shoulder, and Arthur let himself be rolled onto his back. He looked up at Alfred, who leant over him, smiling in that suggestive way that spelt out seduction in the curve of his lips. Arthur reached up and slid his arms around Alfred's neck, pulling him down to capture that tempting mouth with his own, moulding his lips to fit against Alfred's and sliding his tongue into the slick heat of Alfred's mouth. His hands trailed down over the younger nation's muscular shoulders, the smooth, sun-kissed skin of his back, and then up again to thread through his hair, letting a small, soft noise of arousal escape to be lost in the meeting of their mouths before their lips parted and Arthur remembered to breathe.

Alfred showered his face in a flurry of kisses – lips, cheeks, nose, forehead – and then moved slowly south, licking under his jaw and trailing his tongue down Arthur's neck to bite softly at his throat, letting the skin gently slide free of his teeth. Arthur made another muted noise in his throat, and when he spoke it was somewhat breathlessly.

"Right now," he said, "you're somewhere north of Leeds." Alfred grinned, finding victory in Arthur allowing him to map out his body.

"Tell me where I'm touching you," he breathed, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin of Arthur's throat as he spoke and smirking as the man beneath him shivered. Then, propping his weight up with one arm on the bed, he let his other hand trace invisible patterns across Arthur's body, following the paths of pale blue veins and the rises and dips of his figure.

"Norfolk," Arthur murmured as Alfred traced the outline of his left hip, letting his nails gently graze the skin with a sound like a whisper. Alfred's mouth followed the downwards path of his hands, and found Manchester again, right back where they had started this conversation. He chastely kissed the nipple before circling it with his tongue. He was acutely aware that Arthur's breathing was now coming in short, shuddering gasps, and he ran his fingers along the bottom of Arthur's stomach, chuckling as the other nation squirmed slightly under him and tightened his hold in Alfred's hair, inadvertently pulling it in a way that only succeeded in heightening Alfred's arousal.

Skimming his fingers down over the jut of Arthur's pelvis, Alfred reached the silky skin of his lover's inner thigh. At his touch, Arthur let his legs fall open wider, and Alfred lifted his head to stare hungrily into those half-lidded green eyes as he slid his hand down to Arthur's knee before bringing it back up, tantalisingly slowly. Arthur's breathing caught as Alfred stroked teasingly close to where Arthur wanted him most, and he made an impatient noise of longing. Alfred smirked and stroked back down the thigh more firmly.

"Tell me," he urged, and for a moment Arthur looked as though he wasn't quite sure what Alfred wanted to know, but then the lust cleared slightly and he remembered the strange game they were playing.

"That thigh is Gloucestershire," he said breathily, "and the left one is Essex. Alfred, I'll tell you where every single fucking village in England is later if you just touch me now!" Alfred smiled wickedly at the outburst.

"But I am touching you," he purred. Arthur managed to glare at him through the pleasure clouding his gaze.

"Bastard," he retorted, before raising himself onto one elbow so that he could reach to place his hand firmly over Alfred's and guide it up to wrap around his cock. "Ahhn..." He shuddered lightly as a low moan escaped his lips, and then he tilted his head up so that he could claim Alfred's mouth again greedily, kissing him deeply, making more muted noises as he moulded Alfred's fingers to his skin and slid the other's hand along his cock, showing Alfred how to pleasure him.

"Like this," he gasped as he broke away from the kiss. Alfred took one look at his flushed face and pushed him back down into the sheets, continuing to move his hand smoothly between Arthur's thighs after the nation below him removed his hand. He moved to sit in between Arthur's legs and rubbed his thumb over the head of Arthur's cock, biting his lip softly as Arthur cried out and bucked his slim hips.

"Let me guess," Alfred murmured, "Big Ben?" He grinned as Arthur managed to look almost offended.

"Just because," he gasped, writhing under Alfred's continued attentions, "Big Ben is a suggestive – ahh – name, doesn't mean that it's – nn, fuck, do that again." One of his hands clenched in the sheets, the other reaching up to cling to Alfred's shoulder, trying to pull him down, to bring them closer.

"Then tell me where it is," Alfred breathed, becoming more aware of his own straining erection, which desperately needed attention, but refusing to give in to his desires before Arthur told him what he wanted to know so desperately. He didn't know why, but somehow the more he knew about Arthur's body, the more it turned him on.

"It's, ah, Cornwall," Arthur said, and Alfred struggled to bring a mental image of England to the forefront of his mind.

"Isn't that the southern county that looks kinda like-" But Arthur cut him off by wrapping his leg around Alfred's waist and finally managing to pull him down so that he was leaning over Arthur on his elbows, close enough to feel the heat radiating from Arthur's body, but not quite close enough to touch.

"Uh huh," Arthur managed, and then rolled his hips upwards, moulding their erections together and sending sparks bursting behind both nations' eyes. "Oh fuck," he gasped. "Alfred. Alfred, please..." Alfred moaned into his neck as their bodies crashed together a second time, and he bit down on the juncture between Arthur's neck and shoulder, sucking on the skin and causing Arthur to cry out. Then he pulled away and reached for a bottle that sat on the bedside table.

It had only been a short while since they'd last had sex, and so Alfred didn't bother to prepare Arthur by using his fingers; the other man's body would still be ready for sex. Pouring some lubricant into his hand, Alfred slicked it along the full length of his cock. Arthur watched his movements, and Alfred slowed down the rhythmic movements of touching himself, giving his lover a show until he couldn't resist the body under him any longer. He pushed Arthur's thighs back into his chest, and Arthur held them there so that Alfred could position himself in just the right place to...

"Ahh!" Arthur closed his eyes and let his head fall back as Alfred pushed gently into him, his nails digging into his legs as a twinge of pain throbbed through him before it was drowned by the feeling of Alfred filling him, invading him, completing him. Then Alfred was leaning over him and pulling his hands away, intertwining their fingers and pinning his hands to the bed with the weight of his upper body. Arthur wrapped his legs around his lover's waist, looking up into Alfred's sapphire blue eyes. "Fuck me," he pleaded, and keened in pleasure when Alfred rocked into him more deeply.

"Trust me," Alfred said huskily, "I will." He started to move, slowly at first, but speeding up the rhythm as Arthur started to become more vocal, wanting to hear more of those maddening cries and sweet, gasping moans. Alfred's breath was coming in pants now, and he let Arthur's name fall off his tongue, again and again like a mantra, because it sounded so good, it sounded like sex.

When Arthur came, Alfred felt those beautiful legs tighten around him and the press of Arthur's hips, forcing Alfred deep inside the other nation as he was swept over the edge, his whole body arching in pleasure and completion and release. Another few seconds, a few more thrusts, and Alfred reached orgasm too, gasping wordlessly as he spilled into Arthur and rode out the heat that exploded inside him.

And then he was breathing heavily, but gaining control, and Arthur's legs loosened their grip and slid back down onto the sheets. Alfred pulled out of his lover's body and collapsed onto the bed by his side, closing his eyes in bliss at the aftertaste of sated satisfaction and the coolness of the sheets beneath his burning skin. Beside him, Arthur shifted slightly on the bed.

"So it was a weird fetish," he said, tiredness stealing into his tone. "You're a freak, Alfred, you know that?" Alfred chuckled slightly and opened his eyes to see Arthur watching him contentedly, despite his words.

"Yeah, I know," he replied, "But you love it."

"I love you," Arthur corrected him, smiling softly in a rare moment of tenderness, and Alfred took his hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss it.

After a moment of silence, as Arthur was about to drift off to sleep, Alfred's voice pulled him back with a final question. "So where in England exactly was I..."

"Devon," Arthur murmured flatly. "Now shut up, and if you let me sleep, I'll buy you a map in the morning."