Cheat.

Bruce goes, but not before kissing the red marks on his thigh, rising up, crawling over him, between his bound arms. His erection is still very insistent, and it presses there hot and hard against Clark when he settles in to take his mouth in a kiss. There's no urgency in it— despite the fact that Bruce can get off more than once, his ordinary human physiology just stupid like that, he's not going for any records today. Fixated on his lover.

Which is not to say he plans to manfully not get off or something. He cants his hips down and sighs, a low, deep sound, and finishes it with an affectionate scrape of teeth against Clark's jaw. Clothespins go bonk, probably, and he pulls one off, the other having succumbed to his bodily drape.

"Let me see your hands," he says, voice practically a rumble. Staying where he is atop the other man (enjoy that, without Kryptonian resistance), Bruce reaches back and pushes Clark's arms over his head so that he can check everything, refit the wraps so they're comfortable, and so on.