Predictably, Clark's hand gentles where Bruce pushes up into it, easing the dull ache he knows must be there with a warm palm.
He smiles into what he's doing as Bruce speaks, his mouth hovered just over abdominal muscles, and the next touch is a bite, very human in pressure and intent. These little things, the almost rhythmically repeated nail drags, the patterns of bruises all feel a little like—if not new to him, but recontextualised. He knows how they really feel, wants to lay them all over Bruce now that he does.
"You do that just fine," he suggests, and his voice is the very same as if they were talking while waiting in line for coffee. Clark puts his hands on Bruce's waist, and in a far too easy motion for someone as densely made as Batman, he'll find himself pulled down several crucial inches across the mattress. The chains rattle and then are strung taut, forcing Bruce's arms straight.
Possibly too much, at least in the moment. The pliant, padded leather means they don't cut in, but there's a throb of pressure and a tingle at the very tips of his fingers that push it.
"You find out what I want before I even know it," Clark is saying, meanwhile, climbing back up the length of Bruce's body so as to kiss him. Bruce will feel his own cock touch against Clark's abdomen, the fabric of his pants, absent of pressure from above for now.
no subject
He smiles into what he's doing as Bruce speaks, his mouth hovered just over abdominal muscles, and the next touch is a bite, very human in pressure and intent. These little things, the almost rhythmically repeated nail drags, the patterns of bruises all feel a little like—if not new to him, but recontextualised. He knows how they really feel, wants to lay them all over Bruce now that he does.
"You do that just fine," he suggests, and his voice is the very same as if they were talking while waiting in line for coffee. Clark puts his hands on Bruce's waist, and in a far too easy motion for someone as densely made as Batman, he'll find himself pulled down several crucial inches across the mattress. The chains rattle and then are strung taut, forcing Bruce's arms straight.
Possibly too much, at least in the moment. The pliant, padded leather means they don't cut in, but there's a throb of pressure and a tingle at the very tips of his fingers that push it.
"You find out what I want before I even know it," Clark is saying, meanwhile, climbing back up the length of Bruce's body so as to kiss him. Bruce will feel his own cock touch against Clark's abdomen, the fabric of his pants, absent of pressure from above for now.