He grunts a begrudging affirmative. Yes, it is easier to do this when he knows she won't attack him, not with her hands or a weapon at least. If she kicks him, that's fine, he supposes.

He looks at her torso, now littered with bite marks. He has no knife to cut her with; she and Jeritza must have confiscated that. Irritating. He instead scratches her hard, down the center of her midsection, and then grabs her hips, digging his nails in hard as he yanks them forward to grind against his own.