"It'll start as pins and needles, or jump straight to light numbness. You'll feel like the area is more dense than it should be. Tell me if you notice it."

The process of wrapping Clark's arms up is slow and methodical, as if cultivating the continued ache of the clothespins. He uses more of them, but not to pinch anywhere - leaving them closed and wrapped around in places where the fabric has to twist in a way that might become too slippery of a knot. Otherwise it's left wide and smoothed out, down to his shoulders, then up the opposite arm, leaving him held close.

Pause. Hm. He ties a bow at Clark's wrists.

Cute.

"Should have gotten blue bandages."

Still, he looks very nice like this. Bruce gives him a gentle kiss, and then situates himself between the other man's knees, settling in to work his way down his chest. Mouth and hands, kissing and biting, manipulating the clothespins, worrying a dark red mark on the underside of one pectoral muscle. He lets his cock press up into him, but doesn't pay it any particular attention. Clark can still bring his hands down, if he wants, but it'll pull uncomfortably at the wrapping. Sort of at Bruce's mercy, sort of not. Restricted but given enough slack on the leash to decide, pinging between different sensations. Where does he want to stay?