Clark's reactions are intoxicating. A kind of high that's unique to this sort of thing, but that Bruce still very rarely achieves. (He has investigated and discarded reddit threads about fabled domspace. That is not this; that probably does not exist, for reasons of the way brain chemicals work.) A shockingly clear connection of trust that feels raw and, in some was, scathing; he feels transparent, but unafraid of it.

He could hurt him, but he won't. His mind doesn't recognize the possibility of doing so, nor the possibility that Clark might worry about it.

Bruce kisses his shoulder. Thinks, I love you, doesn't manage to say so.

He hitches forward and changes a few angles, stilling his hand's movement to instead hold right there, barely moving just the tips of his fingers. Puts an ache in his wrist, but it's worth it. He knows Clark can come without a hand on his cock, and that this is dangerous territory. And so, after a torturous moment, he suddenly withdraws.

No time given for any acclimation, Bruce gives him an affectionate almost-slap on one asscheek before he's hauling Clark over onto his front again, but this time, pulling him up onto his knees. He manhandles him so that his thighs are spread wide enough to risk unbalancing him, forcing him to either uncomfortably move forward - which Bruce prevents by pressing down on his shoulders - or lean back. He feels himself on edge, too, but he refuses to acknowledge it. Not yet.

Bruce runs his hand over Clark's spine, up and down, and settles in behind him, position clear and obvious. He leans in, tucked up behind him, lets his cock slide in the cleft of his ass.

Here is where he'd ask, Okay? if not for following Clark's instructions.