It felt good. No, it felt amazing. The soft skin of Psyche's lips grazing against his own, almost. Delic's thrusting fingers gave him a sort of annoying, tantalizing pleasure; he was so close and yet so far away from hitting against the right spot... but he was probably doing that on purpose besides. Izaya gropes around carefully to pull his double closer. He didn't want him fooling around any longer. He parts his lips once he finds the other pair, trying to trap his mouth and prevent him from answering the host's query. If Psyche wanted to answer him, he'd need to do it some other way.