He likes being held down (when it's Clark doing the holding, at least), but he also likes touching him when they kiss, and so it always makes moments like this a tortured clash of yes-no. Much better than not kissing at all, though - and of course he pushes up into it when Clark is so light at first, chases it when he pulls away. Ends up with his face pressed behind the younger man's ear, nosing at dark curls.

A heavy sigh escapes him, as he relaxes into the pressure. Clark pressing down into him, Clark chewing a welt onto his neck. He can feel exactly where it is, yes, threatening even his fully buttoned and barred suit collars.

"If you don't, you're stuck with me for a week."

Until it heals enough to take makeup properly, anyway, or to be a funny fading bruise harkening back to his playboy days, and not a garish misstep for someone so old. (Discounting, of course, another kind of suit entirely, which will very much cover it.) Bruce tucks one ankle around Clark's. Looks like they're both trapped now!

Or, whatever. He splays his hands and curls them into fists, flexing his wrists, pushing up against the cuffs and Clark's hands.