Again, there's no room for these words to be smug in some way, just raw and murmured as Clark keeps working him, eyes locked on him, drinking in each involuntary twitch or compulsive squirm. Unceasing, where he works him, locked down in the discipline of being careful, of doing this properly. By now, Clark doesn't think that even in his most desperate state, he'd ever really hurt anyone doing this, but the knife edge of control feels so close to slipping, takes up so much focus, that it never seemed worth it, before.
Until now, anyway, and here he is, pressing right up against it. "I know," he says again, fingers pushing deeper. "'Cause I want you like that too. When you're near me, it's all I can do to keep my hands off you." And technically, Bruce is near him all the time, if such things can be measured in how long it takes to get from A to B.
His hand withdraws, and no, he isn't going to fuck Bruce with his pants on, shoving them down off his waist and kneel-stepping out. A soft sigh of relief, of cool air against his cock, which is shiny where it's been leaking too. He holds himself with his slick hand, a few strokes to distribute run-off lube from root to tip, but more distracted by, far more keyed up by watching Bruce. Enough. At least enough of this, of driving each other slowly insane.
In leaning over, helping him hitch a leg up so that he can press the head of his cock against Bruce's ass. "Okay?" and only waits for the barest of affirmation before, torturously slow but also not stopping, he pushes himself in.
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Again, there's no room for these words to be smug in some way, just raw and murmured as Clark keeps working him, eyes locked on him, drinking in each involuntary twitch or compulsive squirm. Unceasing, where he works him, locked down in the discipline of being careful, of doing this properly. By now, Clark doesn't think that even in his most desperate state, he'd ever really hurt anyone doing this, but the knife edge of control feels so close to slipping, takes up so much focus, that it never seemed worth it, before.
Until now, anyway, and here he is, pressing right up against it. "I know," he says again, fingers pushing deeper. "'Cause I want you like that too. When you're near me, it's all I can do to keep my hands off you." And technically, Bruce is near him all the time, if such things can be measured in how long it takes to get from A to B.
His hand withdraws, and no, he isn't going to fuck Bruce with his pants on, shoving them down off his waist and kneel-stepping out. A soft sigh of relief, of cool air against his cock, which is shiny where it's been leaking too. He holds himself with his slick hand, a few strokes to distribute run-off lube from root to tip, but more distracted by, far more keyed up by watching Bruce. Enough. At least enough of this, of driving each other slowly insane.
In leaning over, helping him hitch a leg up so that he can press the head of his cock against Bruce's ass. "Okay?" and only waits for the barest of affirmation before, torturously slow but also not stopping, he pushes himself in.