The sensation of decoupling is a strange one, and the discomfiting sting of it is somehow more of a negative than anything else they've done and have been doing. Perhaps because of the mundane, slightly undignified pain of something so mechanical; still, there's something funny about it, that Bruce's eyebrows can twinge at that sensation, and held fast and painfully aroused while Clark had been shoving and choking him.

A shaking breath in, and out. Bruce's eyes are unfocused, looking up at the ceiling, at the edges of what he can see of the other man, his wild wavy hair, the side of his face. He bets he can see through his own eyelids. How weird is that.

"You," he slides his other hand over the other man's broad back, pressing his palm down, feeling him breathe. "...Are really fucking heavy."

That thinning quality of his voice is not currently all exhaustion. Deadweighted, Superman can crush buildings. Halp.