Good request.

Charming, sweet, all those things, Clark's smile more around the eyes for once, and he sinks down to oblige him. It's a light kiss, and there's a beat where maybe that's all Bruce will get, before it's echoed in a second, firmer version, teeth and tongue slowly demanding entry while Clark runs his hands up Bruce's arms.

Thumbs feeling a firm path up their undersides, until Clark finds his wrists, and squeezes them through the restraint as they kiss, as he licks into Bruce's mouth. The angle is such that he can press his hips down against Bruce's, can roll them forward in the subtle beginning of something more sexual and friction-y, even if they're only just starting.

The kiss is broken only for Clark to nudge aside Bruce's face with his own face and find a nice spot on his throat to work.

"I should probably mind my manners, huh," he says against Bruce's skin, when that point of contact—a little above collar-line and therefore conspicuous—takes on the start of bruising pressure. His hands squeeze bound wrists again.