Like any true sadist, Dito knew that milking every ounce of pain from a victim sometimes had the unfortunate side effect of causing them to shut down; to withdraw into themselves in an almost subconscious attempt to escape. Obviously that didn't much matter when it came to killing an adversary in battle, but when it came to torture, it meant that the prey essentially became useless. The fun was over. They just became another piece of meat. It was the same with pleasure-- give too much to someone at one time, no matter how enjoyable it was to torment them, and you risked burning out their brains.

It was a shame, really. Though he would only have admitted it in his own secret thoughts, Shigaraki was the most fun he'd had in a long time... in terms of dalliances, anyway. He grinned impishly at the other man as his wrist was taken, his eyes widening in mock shock-- good heavens, how did that get there?-- as his devious hand traced light trails across Shigaraki's stomach, smearing slick jism over the muscles as they clenched.

"Oh, that? That was a demonstration, my gorgeous-- ah?" Dito's words cut off in a sharp and almost feminine gasp as he suddenly felt Shigaraki take hold of his engorged cock. He'd been so fixated on reducing the other man to a whimpering, writhing lump of overstimulated pleasure that he hadn't realized how close he himself was; how sensitive he'd become to touch in only a few minutes. Dito bit his lip hard enough to taste blood as he struggled not to lose himself just yet. His body trembled, his hips froze, rigid with his refusal to move against Shigaraki's fingers.

Only one coherent thought blazed through his addled brain: How had this angry little virgin managed to switch the traces on him so quickly?