For all of Clark's alien weirdness, his body is remarkably human.

You haven't been dating very long, but a few months is enough for a usual relationship to escalate beyond just make-outs and heavy petting.

Clark knows that. God does he know that, and so do you.

You're oh so carefully trying to broach the subject. Guide his hands where you want them. Ease him into touching you. But he pulls back with a lame excuse every time.

And it's not like he doesn't want to, lord knows he does, but the last few times he's gotten in that situation he hasn't even really been able to enjoy it. Not with anyone. He's just too scared of what he'll do if he properly lets go.

He doesn't really want to break you. Not actually.

So, when you sit him down on the edge of the bed one day, getting in his lap in nothing but a robe, he tries his usual routine, trying desperately to shift his hips away to not make his raging hard-on obvious.

"Sweetheart, I probably stink. I should shower--"