His next exhale is not voiceless, sounds more like Oh, hips hitching up into Clark's hand— as much as he can, anyway, which is perhaps not much, with that lean against him. He has that one sensual foot free though, but he doesn't want to move it from where it's tucked around - not Clark's ankle anymore, the positioning has shifted as he's slunk down, but perhaps the back of his knee. Bruce can't tell.

All sub no space is a dumb joke. He doesn't get out of his head, the way that would make him good at being dominated. But he still likes it too much for his own good.

"Have I done a poor job of letting you know how good you make me feel?"

If so, that's a major error. Bruce wants to curl his fingers in Clark's hair. He drags in a breath, paradoxically more keyed up against how slow he knows this'll be going. All night, Clark says, and he can feel his cock leak. Fuck.

"You do things to me I didn't think were possible. I should be furious with you."