Clark's eyes hood a little, staying perfectly and borderline unnaturally still as Bruce's palms slide down his chest, and tug at his jeans. He breathes out, lifting his hips to allow it, doing little more than relishing the feeling of Bruce's hands working the denim down past his hips, the cooler air against his cock once its freed.
Clark smooths his hands around from shoulders to Bruce's throat, thumb stroking along the line from collar to beneath his chin, a hold that keeps him still so Clark can bend down to kiss him again.
It's different, not pretending. There have been casual hook ups in the past he has spooked from just the little things—forgetting to roll when pushed, or failing to react when someone is rough.
Some of the kinks (as it were) worked out for the first time with Lois. Not all of 'em.
He slides a hand between them as well, fingers smoothing down Bruce's abdomen, fingers dipping inside his pants. There is the sound of seams in stress and a tear of fabric, waistband immediately looser than before as knuckles push past. "Sorry," doesn't sound sorry when it's breathed like that against your neck.
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Clark smooths his hands around from shoulders to Bruce's throat, thumb stroking along the line from collar to beneath his chin, a hold that keeps him still so Clark can bend down to kiss him again.
It's different, not pretending. There have been casual hook ups in the past he has spooked from just the little things—forgetting to roll when pushed, or failing to react when someone is rough.
Some of the kinks (as it were) worked out for the first time with Lois. Not all of 'em.
He slides a hand between them as well, fingers smoothing down Bruce's abdomen, fingers dipping inside his pants. There is the sound of seams in stress and a tear of fabric, waistband immediately looser than before as knuckles push past. "Sorry," doesn't sound sorry when it's breathed like that against your neck.