Bruce's hands are large and surprisingly dexterous for anyone who doesn't know him, and another time John might appreciate the skill with which they press into him, slowly working him open with the same finesse as they would a lock. But it is, indeed, taking enough time that what distance Bruce had managed to push him into is starting to waver, and John grinds out another curse as it becomes more and more clear that Bruce has decided that now is the best time to zen. He can feel the thickness of the man's cock rubbing against him with just enough contact to be a bloody tease and absolutely nothing near enough for him to have a hope of getting off himself.

"Come on, you bloody wanker," he curses, and maybe it finally gets through to whatever nirvana of making John's dick explode from need Bruce is trying to achieve, but at last Bruce is moving. The fingers are gone and John attempts to press back against the thick head of Bruce's cock, but the angle is all wrong. Likely also on purpose, he feels. He's at Bruce's mercy and nothing else is going to happen until the other man chooses to.

He's about to curse him out again, for all the good it might do, when Bruce jerks a peg free and the words become a choked out cry of pleasure and shock as he's rewarded at the same time. It's such a mix of pain and pleasure that despite how much he wants it, John's muscles clamp down around Bruce immediately and his body tenses against the harness.