"We can be quick," Craig huffed, separating from Tweek for a brief minute to catch his breath.
"Uh-huh. Yeah, yeah. Yep. We can just uh, just do this, and…" the shorter boy stammered. It was clear that he was trying to make himself more comfortable with fucking right before Clyde, Jimmy, and Token would be over. It was sort of thrilling to both of them, the idea of maybe getting caught. Kenny had introduced it to them during a casual conversation about gay sex, but it sounded like "something something uhh Leo blah blah blah I'm gay." The two boys were now excited, with Tweek being more shaky and nervous but still willing to do this.
"It's okay. We don't have to do this, and—"
"No, no. I want to do this." Tweek offered a half-giggle with a light smile, reassuring the taller boy that was clinging him close. They had been passionately and slowly making out prior to Tweek's anxiety kicking in, with Craig ending out on top. "Please, babe, just uh, be careful. Gentle? Is that what I'm supposed to say?"
"Mhm," Craig nodded, reaching over to the drawer in a partial daze. His hand fumbled with the knob of the drawer before it came open. They had a lot of different types of lotion because Tweek was, for lack of a better term, incredibly receptive to pain. He liked to bottom, sure, but he also liked to be able to walk.
Craig's hand finally grazed over a bottle of water-based lubricant. He snatched that up and supplied a generous amount on his hand before he heard a soft whimper from Tweek followed by hands reaching down towards his pants and tugging them off, his boxers following suit.
And that's when they heard it.
From their position on the couch, a screech of the opening door was like a siren. They knew exactly who it was. The "I don't knock so ya better not be fuckin'" guy himself, Clyde Donovan. But this time, he was absolutely speechless. He had no clue what to say. There was just silence hanging in the air before Tweek sprung up, shoving Craig to the ground and tugging up his khakis.
"I can explain, I—" Craig began.
"You fucking better," another voice sang from near the doorway. It was Kyle, incredibly flustered and angry as he shoved Stan away.
"You forgot we invited Kyle and Stan?" Clyde chuckled.
And that, my friends, is how our dear friend, Clyde Donovan, learned to knock whenever he entered the household of anyone. Ever.