Clark let him lose his fingers in his hair and shifted his head the tiniest amount to move his fingers without his own effort.

He'd let his eyes close, but he peeked one open to see Bruce's eyes. He loved Bruce's eyes. They were still the most beautiful ice blue. Always had been, always would be.

His hand reached up and stroked Bruce's cheek. The skin was soft, papery, but it was Bruce's. And he could still see the faint sheen of rainbow light around Bruce that he'd loved to watch for years.