Bruce shifts; Clark has to check himself instead of just push them both back into bed. Wrong bed, wrong moment, but he's not convinced it's the wrong person, and he's also not convinced that what he wants right now is much more complicated than to be near. He leans in again, a kiss that begins as a touch before suring up.

He's not uncomfortable, because discomfort is about strain and tension that his muscles have too much capacity to pay much mind to, but the soft groan of old springs reminds him that's not the case for everyone.

Which is somewhat unflattering.

"You wanna lie down?" is mumbled against mouth, the corner of. He doesn't want to leave, yet. Whatever reservations Clark might feel about this specific awakening happening in his family home seem less urgent than this undefinable thing happening here.