That careful hint of sharpness drags a whimper out of him, and there's a disgruntled edge to it; Bruce had been so smugly certain about getting him into bed, proving him right would be so fucking annoying -

Gods, he really is one of the loneliest men in the world.

The pressure meets resistance in Zerxus pushing back, flexing against Bruce as his eyes open again. He makes no move to end the kiss, but there's a certain kind of glint in his eyes, a playful but stubborn defiance that says 'if you want me on my back, then earn it'.