There are things left to figure out, which is its own kind of nice. One of them, at least for Clark, is figuring out the balance. It's not missed on him, Bruce's level of care, for little things and for big things. It's different to what he might anticipate from Lois, where she makes him feel like a safe port in a storm, how right and good that feels. Whether it's Bruce's audacity to resurrect him or Lois admitting how far she'd fallen, how ready she was to be caught, through to—

Well. This stuff, maybe. Clark glances at Bruce for that question, hand gentle around him, coaxing him. Gentle, considering the friction of dry skin.

"Not in particular," he says, thinking about it. There'd been a hint of motion like he could get something more satisfying out of the brush of Bruce's knuckles against his cock, on its way to hard since Bruce had touched the waistband of his pants. Now, instead, he scoots backwards, giving Bruce space to find something more comfortable, and himself more room. "But I think I wanna take care of you to start with," with a gentle emphasis on the 'you'.

Mostly he means this: curls his fingers firmer around Bruce's cock, and lower his head down to take it only shallowly into his mouth, once he gets any sense of acquiescence.