Bruce didn't expect to be so struck by it, even as he was desperate for it. He clutches at the other man, almost harsh and demanding in his acceptance, a kind of greed for his pleasure. For the strength of him. And there is grief, too, at how starkly he can feel Clark holding himself back. It makes him forget to breathe.
"Clark," he gasps, and nothing else. Just Clark.
Adoration and something else. Like an apology. How awful and wretched is it, to want to go back to a time when they were killing each other, because they were both so free of tethers. Of course he doesn't want that, doesn't want to go back to, but if he could just.
Don't tell him you love him, you idiot.
Bruce presses a kiss to his mouth, panting, off-center. Clark is inhumanly warm everywhere. He feels like he could incinerate right here and that would be fine. His hand closes around the other man's at his cock, finding the right pace for him.
no subject
"Clark," he gasps, and nothing else. Just Clark.
Adoration and something else. Like an apology. How awful and wretched is it, to want to go back to a time when they were killing each other, because they were both so free of tethers. Of course he doesn't want that, doesn't want to go back to, but if he could just.
Don't tell him you love him, you idiot.
Bruce presses a kiss to his mouth, panting, off-center. Clark is inhumanly warm everywhere. He feels like he could incinerate right here and that would be fine. His hand closes around the other man's at his cock, finding the right pace for him.