"Why don't you try me sometime, see how much you can distract me from it?" It's the kind of challenge Constantine can get behind, wanting to see how far Bruce will go and, as always, pushing further than he knows is probably good for him.

"Think you can come up with other things to put in my mouth to shut me up." It's said in gasps and grunts, the harsh grind of skin against skin raw and rough and what he'd come here for. Sensation too powerful to allow memory to leak through.

He hooks a leg awkwardly behind Bruce's, striving to meet him as they rut against each other and hissing as the friction starts to feel almost too much. Bruce is right; he's not quiet by any means, never has been, punctuating the air with curses and fragments of begging, even kissing wet and with a lot of vocal enthusiasm.

But he's not one to refuse a challenge either, and as Bruce grinds down on him, Constantine tips his head back, his hand splaying down the back of the larger man's neck and eyes rolling up as he mutters an incantation under his breath. This time there are sparks, dancing over his fingers and peppering sharp, needle-like jolts against Bruce's skin, buzzing pleasantly up his own arm and chest. Never let it be said he didn't try to keep Bruce on his toes.