Since when did someone like Shigaraki have time to even explore matters of the flesh? Back home, if all four fingers and a thumb were touching someone, that someone was dust in a matter of moments. It's not exactly the sexy you know? Besides, who the fuck in their right mind would let someone who literally looks like a living corpse snug up all close to them? So yea, he's a blushing virgin okay, sue him.

Shigaraki had no idea he was being thought of as something precious to be tarnished, he'd never been intensely fetishized like this before, it was all very new and honestly as well as exciting, and terrifying. He felt vulnerable. Usually when he felt like this, he'd be able to decay whoever was making him feel so weak, and yet he didn't want to snuff Dito out. Not yet anyway.

Why was he stopping? What did he stop for? The frustration and mild confusion danced across Shigaraki's pale brow when Dito's crafty hands ceased their teasing. He couldn't hide the expression he made, hand tightening then letting go of Dito's throat as the other pressed- no, pawed at their chest, practically whining out a pathetic, needy sound.

"And if I do? So what. You're the one encouraging it. I think you take more pleasure in frustrating me than you do in anything else. Well congratulations, you've got what you wanted, haven't you? You know better than I do, all hail Dito, King of Forsight." He chided, feeling that it was easier to snap and complain than it was, to be honest. However, for all his petty words, his tone gave him away. Each word was strained by anticipation and muted pleasure. His hips twitched and pressed forward like he was desperate to have Dito's hand moving on him once more.