Clark does maintain eye contact, all the while that specific and perfect stillness sets through his muscles. Never as tense as a human being would have to be. Still, this close, Bruce can feel the tic and tug of muscle and tendon, and see the micro-shifts of pupil, eye colour dispersion. He might sense the fist Clark makes in the sheets next to him, the held breath.
Off-kilter until he isn't. Unmoving until he has a hand around Bruce's arm, but it's not firm, just yet. It's a gentle splay of fingers across the back of his wrist, thumb press light where his pulse might be, like they're sharing a romantic moment watching the sunset, and he's about to say something less direct than—
"On your back," he says, with a new rough edge in his voice, like maybe his mouth went dry at some point there.
And he moves Bruce's hand away from his jaw, and he pushes it right back so that that arm is pinned on the mattress beside his head, that the rest of him has to follow. Bruce can tell there is no real weight on his arm, holding it down, even as Clark pushes over him. "I wanna see that look on your face again. Like you don't know where you are, what you're doing."
He slips a thigh between Bruce's, nudging one aside.
no subject
Psychologically, however.
Clark does maintain eye contact, all the while that specific and perfect stillness sets through his muscles. Never as tense as a human being would have to be. Still, this close, Bruce can feel the tic and tug of muscle and tendon, and see the micro-shifts of pupil, eye colour dispersion. He might sense the fist Clark makes in the sheets next to him, the held breath.
Off-kilter until he isn't. Unmoving until he has a hand around Bruce's arm, but it's not firm, just yet. It's a gentle splay of fingers across the back of his wrist, thumb press light where his pulse might be, like they're sharing a romantic moment watching the sunset, and he's about to say something less direct than—
"On your back," he says, with a new rough edge in his voice, like maybe his mouth went dry at some point there.
And he moves Bruce's hand away from his jaw, and he pushes it right back so that that arm is pinned on the mattress beside his head, that the rest of him has to follow. Bruce can tell there is no real weight on his arm, holding it down, even as Clark pushes over him. "I wanna see that look on your face again. Like you don't know where you are, what you're doing."
He slips a thigh between Bruce's, nudging one aside.