Through the thumb against Sora's neck, Kaito fan feel the other's pulse, classically steady, no fear increasing the heart rate and running down what oxygen was left in the blood too fast. Beyond the finger and thumb, and Kaito's breath as he watches Sora's expression from the corner his vision, he doesn't bother with any contact. This wasn't submission or domination, not even really fucking yet, just a dare, and he was curious to see how far that would go. Fuck, the bastard might even enjoy himself, not that Kaito was interested in having anything in common with Takeuchi Sora.

He tugs lightly against the whip, not freeing up any air so much as posing a reminder that was there, and waits to see if the body wants to fight back.