Just one thrust and he lets up the pressure. Sentimental bastard. Natsuo rewards him with steady bobs of his head and thorough massaging sweeps of his tongue that gradually fill his whole mouth with Dabi's taste. That and Dabi's sweet words of praise have his own cock leaking between his legs, and he answers Dabi's rhetorical question with a moan around his mouthful right when he once again hits the base.

He needs to multitask if he wants to get through this without hurting one or both of them with his impatience. Pausing his movements for just a moment, he wipes away some of the saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth and uses his thumb to spread it over two of his fingers, which he presses against and then into his hole to get it ready for what comes next.

When his rhythms match up, fingers fucking himself in time with each bob and lift of his head, Natsuo's amazed he doesn't come from that alone. Talk about paltry stamina - he's moaning steadily now, every breath through his nostrils audibly sharp and shallow.