Clark nodded and leaned forward, pressing the softest, sweetest of kisses against his temple.

Even as his free hand reached over to the spot and dug his nails in, biting through the flesh before flexing his hand closed. There was a drag of sensation up to his shoulder, but only the spot of the scar was ripped. Only the scar was remade.

"Every one," he murmured gently against Bruce's hair. "That time is no longer allowed to have even an inch of you. Not even one mark."