Bruce didn't know how long they kissed, either. He didn't particularly care. What they were doing here was more than just kissing, more even than 'sex', by more conventional definitions. By less conventional and more romantic ones, it was sex, or even making love (and no, the violence and roughness didn't change that).

Bruce eventually eased and gentled, and brought Clark down with him as best he could. Turned less desperate and more affectionate, and grateful. He started to breathe properly in the kiss, and unwrapped from Clark just enough to let his feet find the tiled floor of the shower.

He still couldn't bring himself to pull away, or even 'progress' things toward any sort of end. He could feel his pulse in every inch of his skin, in every bruised fingerprint and swollen lips, feel the sting of the water against him and he simply did not want to move out of this precious, timeless, private, space with Clark.

He didn't want to share Clark with the world, just yet.

So all he did was gentle and ease and take some of his own weight and keep kissing Clark. He'd... find the will to do more, he would, but he just couldn't yet. Not until he knew Clark was completely here, and was even more sure than that, that he'd given Clark everything he possibly could.