The obvious, deliberate stillness, the non-reaction in the face of I think you'd like that betrays more truth than if he'd allowed himself to flinch with jumpy desire. Because he would. Of course. He'd like anything Clark chose to subject him to, but most of all, he likes it when all of his focus is drilled down to just them. And— Christ, well, if all those dreams of being held down and tortured weren't also sometimes erotic, they may have never gotten here in the first place, all things considered.

Bruce lets out a breath in the form of a groaned, "Fuck", somewhat involuntarily elongated. He can feel precisely where there will be a bruise, in a few minutes, as the ring finger on Clark's right hand catches somewhere that's always been an acupuncture hot spot. Sharpgood.

"You know I hypnotize myself to stay awake for a week, right?" he says when he's recovered, only a little bit breathy. "I'm good at patience."