Of course he wants her, too. She's beautiful, after all, all soft, voluptuous curves, heaving breasts and full hips, thighs he wants to dig his teeth into, lips he could devour. That's not even going into all of the other things that just keep drawing him in. She's beautiful, and the way she makes that demand and then tries to pretend it's only a request only makes his interest grow.

Dazai's breath leaves in a sigh between parted lips as her fingers slide over him, the touch teasing, promising more. He wants more, too, and his other hand drops, too, both of them fisting in the gauzy front of her skirt and then yanking apart with a sudden, violent motion, the fabric tearing apart. He's watching her as he does it, watching for her reactions as those long fingers now run over her bared thighs, one hand slipping between her legs to find her already wet.

"Go ahead, Mikan-chan," he murmurs, fingers rubbing against the outside of her, not yet going further. "Tell me what you want. It's okay, I promise I won't be mad. I want you to tell me. Tell me while you're touching me." His words are a purr, a husky promise as he touches her, light and teasing but with that promise of violence only a breath away.