It's such a normal moment. Clark wiggling over to snag supplies and get his jeans off. For a second they are anyone, and this isn't strange unmapped territory, no one was being nearly choked out a second ago. They're just two men fumbling through the beginnings of a relationship.

Struck by it, he smiles while Clark's distracted. (Or is he. Superspeed, superbrain, does he see; Bruce can't know.) With quick grace befitting of a ninja he slips out of the remains of his clothes, comfortable nude despite the vast coverage of scars, and when Clark comes back to mouth at his shoulder, Bruce is halfway up on his side, body inclined towards his, welcoming, hands gliding, as hungry and demanding as they are warm.

"Yes." Like a lance to his gut. Something hotter than he has words for. Like heat vision. Hah. "That's what I want."

Low and earnest. He doesn't shake when he says it. Somehow. Bruce presses a kiss to his mouth.

"Have you, before?"