Clark smiles, but it a subtle variant that manifests more around his eyes. Not surprised in the way Bruce is describing, but close, maybe. "That's sweet," he says, too sincere to be only making fun, if not immune to the fact it's also a call out. He likes the things Bruce's notices. Takes note of.
His arm curls around Bruce's leg, finding a grip beneath his thigh, and with a gentle tug—inasmuch as inevitable strength can be gentle—he pulls Bruce further down the bed by a few inches, as though that were easier and more convenient to do than for him to reposition his sprawl.
Stroking ceases, replaced with a hold and opened-mouth kissing, eyes half-closed, in search of those sensitive spots that elicit response, both voluntary and not. Patient. His own erection he can press into the mattress with the subtle shift of his hips and barely relieve some of the building ache, and he doesn't mind that at all.
He gives a contented hum against sensitive skin the next rake through of Bruce's fingers. What time is it again. What timezone, even. Who knows.
no subject
His arm curls around Bruce's leg, finding a grip beneath his thigh, and with a gentle tug—inasmuch as inevitable strength can be gentle—he pulls Bruce further down the bed by a few inches, as though that were easier and more convenient to do than for him to reposition his sprawl.
Stroking ceases, replaced with a hold and opened-mouth kissing, eyes half-closed, in search of those sensitive spots that elicit response, both voluntary and not. Patient. His own erection he can press into the mattress with the subtle shift of his hips and barely relieve some of the building ache, and he doesn't mind that at all.
He gives a contented hum against sensitive skin the next rake through of Bruce's fingers. What time is it again. What timezone, even. Who knows.