From here, Bruce can just see Clark's brow crinkle. Protest.
It goes along with the long exhale of complaint which somehow seems to make his warm weight a little weightier, before with great effort, he rolls aside. Taking care not to shift his weight somewhere awkward, mindful of knees and elbows and hips.
Even now, so soon after, both of them in Recovery and sweat drying on bare skin beginning to prickle in the open air, Clark can sense in him a shift of something. He's not sure he will ever really forget that one night, the violence of it, the intensity of it seared into his brain, the only place that seems to pick up scars. But all the same—
New memories. New things to remember and flush warm from. Clark seeks out Bruce's hand and takes it, a clumsy tangling of fingers.
"Now what?" is a little facetious, but his eyebrows are earnest.
no subject
It goes along with the long exhale of complaint which somehow seems to make his warm weight a little weightier, before with great effort, he rolls aside. Taking care not to shift his weight somewhere awkward, mindful of knees and elbows and hips.
Even now, so soon after, both of them in Recovery and sweat drying on bare skin beginning to prickle in the open air, Clark can sense in him a shift of something. He's not sure he will ever really forget that one night, the violence of it, the intensity of it seared into his brain, the only place that seems to pick up scars. But all the same—
New memories. New things to remember and flush warm from. Clark seeks out Bruce's hand and takes it, a clumsy tangling of fingers.
"Now what?" is a little facetious, but his eyebrows are earnest.