He doesn't actually know what he's open to at the moment, but he's not about to push her away from a lap that offers firm resistance against pressing, warm hands.

"I..." he leans back on his elbows, hipbones jutting over the top of his jeans as Misa unzips them, relieving at least some of the pressure that built rather quickly. "Yes. I believe you."

Whether or not this counts as under duress is probably a great big grey area.