[Even as he's drunk, Iceland isn't exactly convinced that Hong Kong can be better than him. This won't feel good at all, gosh. It'll only feel good if he tops. Yet, he's still all for this; tilting his head up, stretching his neck up to press his lips hard and passionate against that insistent kiss. He returns it just as deep as Hong Kong dares to kiss, as if in some sort of kissing competition. Booze may make Iceland loose as hell, but he's still full of drunken pride.]
[Though, perhaps that pride breaks a little when Hong Kong moves his legs. Perhaps he surrenders just that little bit more to his friend once that pressure pushes against him and he moans audibly into Hong Kong's mouth between the kiss.]
[He catches that moan. He likes that moan. Everything is too fuzzy for Hong Kong to even figure out exactly what caused it but that's all right as he simply shifts more against the other, that need of his own growing below and causing him frustration when he moves against Iceland once more. However, if it's a kissing competition then Iceland is on as Hong Kong kisses all the more deeper, pressing him harder into the couch as his hands move from his friend's wrists to slip in between fingers.]
[He'd be actually perfectly content doing nothing but kiss the other deeply, but yes, drunk horny teenage hormones ensure that he wants more than just this. His hips begin to move subtley against the other's, finally realising what drew that moan from him, and Hong Kong starts to grind slightly against his friend as noises of his own slip out against his lips.]
[It's too bad they're both pretty sloppy with their kisses, with, y'know, the whole alcohol thing fuckin' them both up pretty bad. The kisses are hard, deep, broad; but almost unattractively sloppy. Almost. They're definitely attractive enough for Iceland as he is right now, and to add to it he bites down on Hong Kong's lower lips softly, withdrawing just a little bit after to catch his breath-- OKAY SO HE LOST THE KISSING COMPETITION, SHUT UP. He's drunk! He... OBVIOUSLY HONG KONG IS SOBER RIGHT NOW AND THAT IS WHY HE WON THE KISSING COMPETITION.]
[But losing hardly matters now that those hips lightly move against him; beginning to grind against him. He wants more of that, more of that friction. His breath hitches and he hisses close to Hong Kong's lips... A moan following soon after, his own hips rising up slightly: More. Something more. The fingers laced with Hong Kong's grasp lightly, already bracing himself against the sensations.]
[Hong Kong is in quite the horny, drunken daze right now, and he lets his head fall down to his friend's neck, kissing in a frenzy as he presses his lips to the flesh and nips at his neck in between. His teeth close lightly on it at first, but gradually bite at the pale skin with increasing force until marks begin to litter Iceland's throat- marks made by Hong Kong and Hong Kong alone; proof that in a way Iceland is his, or at least is for now.]
[All the while, his hips press down against Iceland, grinding and rocking against that pressure. It's slow but needy as Hong Kong shifts and moves against his friend, moaning against his throat, hands clutching tight at his before one pries itself free to move downwards towards the other's trousers. All it does at first is rest there, pressing clumsily at the swell between his legs and tugging at the fabric before Hong Kong remembers a thing known as a zipper exists- and those fingers fumble clumsily with the fly responsible for keeping those pants in the way between them.]
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[Even as he's drunk, Iceland isn't exactly convinced that Hong Kong can be better than him. This won't feel good at all, gosh. It'll only feel good if he tops. Yet, he's still all for this; tilting his head up, stretching his neck up to press his lips hard and passionate against that insistent kiss. He returns it just as deep as Hong Kong dares to kiss, as if in some sort of kissing competition. Booze may make Iceland loose as hell, but he's still full of drunken pride.]
[Though, perhaps that pride breaks a little when Hong Kong moves his legs. Perhaps he surrenders just that little bit more to his friend once that pressure pushes against him and he moans audibly into Hong Kong's mouth between the kiss.]
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[He'd be actually perfectly content doing nothing but kiss the other deeply, but yes, drunk horny teenage hormones ensure that he wants more than just this. His hips begin to move subtley against the other's, finally realising what drew that moan from him, and Hong Kong starts to grind slightly against his friend as noises of his own slip out against his lips.]
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[But losing hardly matters now that those hips lightly move against him; beginning to grind against him. He wants more of that, more of that friction. His breath hitches and he hisses close to Hong Kong's lips... A moan following soon after, his own hips rising up slightly: More. Something more. The fingers laced with Hong Kong's grasp lightly, already bracing himself against the sensations.]
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[All the while, his hips press down against Iceland, grinding and rocking against that pressure. It's slow but needy as Hong Kong shifts and moves against his friend, moaning against his throat, hands clutching tight at his before one pries itself free to move downwards towards the other's trousers. All it does at first is rest there, pressing clumsily at the swell between his legs and tugging at the fabric before Hong Kong remembers a thing known as a zipper exists- and those fingers fumble clumsily with the fly responsible for keeping those pants in the way between them.]
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