For a long moment, Clark lies there breathless. Vibing, really, feeling that human-like relaxation wash over him immediately, warm and comforting. Little niggly things rising to the surface, like the urge to soothe the row of red blotches along his thigh, or attend to the twinned sensations of the pins still affixed to his nipples, or—

He looks down at Bruce, feels a twinge that is both a sex thing and a heart thing. A click of insight where Bruce knows that Clark knows how turned on the older man is, and Clark kind of reaches, but the way his wrists are bound make it awkward.

"Come here," he says, instead, voice all warm and low and quiet. It's sweetly querying and not a deliberate ploy to get his way, sometimes that just happens by accident.