"Hand in hand, aren't they? Failed once, stubborn not to fail again. All tangled up in each other." He can feel Bruce's cock against the sensitive, stinging flesh of his ass, frustratingly present but failing to offer much more than that. Even his hands aren't giving him a inch of relief, carefully avoiding where Constantine is starting to desperately want some contact or friction, making it apparent that one part of getting him up like this is likely to avoid any attempts to just rub one out against the bed. Bastard.

He's running out of focus to offer many more retorts to the treatment; the stinging blows bring that tingling heat around to his thighs and hips, have his cock twitching with each blow and a hiss leaving his lips as the smarting skin is left to the air. With his head tipped back and eyes closed, Constantine's focus is entirely on that area of his body, so much so that he jerks as the attention suddenly shifts higher.

"Fuck-!" Trussed up with clothes pegs on his bloody nipples, Bruce's hands smoothing over aching skin... little wonder he's starting to struggle with coherency. Even cracking open an eye to look down at himself doesn't help, seeing his own erection framed by Bruce's hands is something he will definitely keep in mind for later times.

"Christ, Bruce... Come on, mate. Help a man out, will you?" He's fairly certain that if he pleaded, Bruce will give him what he asks for, but never let it be said that Constantine starts pleading easily.