What should normally happen, with a partner, including Clark, is the forceful hook around of Bruce's leg should at least encourage some downwards angling. Normally never fails to shepherd in Clark close, even if the aim is to just push upwards. This time there is no give at all, no flexing downwards or even resistance upwards, although Clark does give a soft groan when Bruce pushes up against him, feels the stiff length of him slide against his own, fabric offering more texture than modesty.

Still, warmth aside, it's a little like trying to get something made of granite to relent, Clark smiling against Bruce's neck where he's nuzzled in to lay down some more kisses. Strange, the experience of this without Bruce's hands on him, in his hair, clutching his back.

"Mm," he agrees. "Big fan."

He reaches down, clasping beneath the thigh of the leg lifted around him, pushing until it's lifted, folded higher, which forces Bruce's hips and ass back down against the bed. "You got any more requests?"