Something like a shiver curls up his spine, but it's harder, and Bruce clamps down on it, making his response to Clark's assertion like a squirm instead. And then he groans, frustrated and wanting, at the second half. For as long as I want. One does not actually need to be the world's greatest detective to figure out Clark's (tactical foreplay) master plan, with that.

"With your pants on?" - is managed, rough and bitten-off, as he's more focused on the way he's being easily moved around. Wrenched a little far apart to be doing anything like hooking an ankle around Clark's, Bruce can only lay there, tense up, relax, breathe, shift restlessly. Again he pulls too hard on one cuff, begins the ninja-instinct process of undoing it, and then makes himself stop. Not like these are doing nothing, and certainly Clark would notice and intervene, but it's just one of those impulses he has to curb now and again. He doesn't want to get out because he feels trapped. He wants to get out so that he can grab Clark, throw him over, and sit on his cock. Slightly different optics.

"Does it hurt at all to deny yourself? To wait like this?"