#tutor!clark

He tripped over the word "arousal," his glasses slipping down his nose. He pushed them back up clumsily, nearly knocking over his water glass in the process. You caught it just in time, your fingers brushing his, and he mumbled a quick "Sorry, I'm such a klutz sometimes."

You smiled softly, leaning forward a bit. "It's okay, Clark. You're doing great. But... these diagrams are kind of clinical. Hard to really picture it all."

He swallowed hard, blue eyes darting to yours behind those glasses, his usual confidence cracking into something more vulnerable. "Y-Yeah, textbooks can be limiting. I mean, real anatomy is... more dynamic." He shifted in his chair, his broad shoulders hunching slightly as if trying to make himself smaller, more approachable. Submissive, almost, in the way he waited for your reaction.

You tilted your head, tracing a finger along the edge of the book. "Maybe we can try another method."

His breath hitched, and for a moment, he looked like he might bolt, dorky Clark, all brains and no smooth moves. But then he nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "I... I can show you better than I can tell you." The words tumbled out, earnest and a little breathless, his clumsiness endearing as he stood, knocking his knee against the table.

You let him take your hand, following as he led you to the couch with careful steps. "Lie back for me?" he asked softly, voice hopeful, almost pleading. You settled back against the cushions, and he knelt between your legs, glasses fogging slightly from his quickened breaths. "You're... beautiful," he whispered, voice dorky and sincere, like he was stating a scientific fact. "I mean, anatomically perfect—wait, that sounded weird. Sorry."

You reached out, cupping his cheek gently. "Shh. It's sweet. Go ahead."

Clark's hands were clumsy at first, trembling as he slid your pants down, but his touch was reverent. "See? The outer labia, it's soft, protective," he explained, voice husky but still tutorial, fingers tracing gently. "And here..." He parted you carefully, leaning in. "The clitoris, swollen from arousal. Blood flow, as I said."

Then his mouth was on you, tongue flicking experimentally at first, dorky in his precision but oh-so-eager to please. You arched, threading fingers lightly through his dark curls. "That's it, Clark, right there."

He moaned against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine. He adjusted based on your reactions, lapping broadly when you gasped, sucking gently when you sighed. "Tastes amazing," he mumbled between licks, glasses pressing into your thigh as he buried deeper. "Inner labia is sensitive, wet from lubrication. Perfect."

You guided him subtly with a soft tug on his hair. "Deeper, baby. Just like that." He obeyed instantly, thrusting his tongue inside you, clumsy enthusiasm making up for any lack of finesse. His free hand gripped your thigh, the other fumbling to hold your hip steady. You came with a soft cry, trembling as waves crashed over you.

Clark lifted his head, lips shiny, glasses askew, looking adorably wrecked. "Did I... explain it well?" he asked, voice shy and hopeful.

You nodded, still catching your breath, and he smiled, small, relieved. Without a word, he shifted up the couch, gathering you gently against his chest. He reached for the blanket draped over the back, pulling it over both of you with careful hands. "Here," he murmured, tucking it around your shoulders before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

You shook your head, curling into him. "I'm perfect. You were amazing."

He flushed, adjusting his glasses with a clumsy hand. "Good. I just... want to take care of you now." He grabbed the water bottle from the side table, unscrewing the cap and holding it to your lips. "Drink a little? And just rest. I've got you."