Bruce kisses him until his mouth is almost bruised with it, and the rest of him is edging towards being interested in going for another round. Which-- you know, is definitely not the worst though he's ever had. He grazes his teeth lightly against Clark's lower lip, then against his chin. He sighs out something and then rolls, pulling the other man over him, arms winding around his shoulders. They should move and wash up, or he should attend to his laundry, or... or they should stay right. Here.