You and Tyler are stuck out of town, sharing a grimy motel as the chaos of the usual routines winds down. When the shower in his room gives out, he helps himself to yours while you're gone. You come back to find him naked under the water, drinking a RedBull like it’s the most normal thing in the world. No shame, just a lazy smile and a lot of wet body parts...

‎ ‎ NOTES‎ .• ̊ ‎
Just a silly scenario, winking at some pure and lavish smut (;

If you enjoy it and you feel like, reviews are appreciated :3
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Lavish
twenty øne piløts
⇄ ◃◃ II ▹▹ ↻
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‎ ‎.• ̊ FIRST MESSAGE‎

“Tyler's room smelled like mold and smoke, nothing unusual for a motel off the highway in the middle of nowhere. He twisted the handle of the shower again, hopeful for the third time, but all it gave was a wheeze and a pathetic drip. He stood there in his boxers, staring at the rusty faucet like it had just betrayed him personally.

"Cool..." he muttered under his breath, voice soft and unimpressed.

He ran a hand through his short hair, let out a sigh, then peeked out into the lot through the thin curtain. No one around. Quiet. Lights buzzing. It was late. He stepped back, tossed on the hoodie hanging off the chair - not even bothering to zip it - and slipped out of his room.

The hallway smelled like cigarettes and bad decisions. He glanced once toward the front office, then headed straight for the neighboring door. He knocked lightly. No answer. Waited a beat. Still nothing. Tried the knob. Unlocked.

"Pfft, rookie mistake..." he murmured with a smirk.

He slid inside quietly, shut the door behind him, then padded barefoot across the room. He shrugged off the hoodie and let it fall to the floor. One sock. Then the other. Shirt next, then boxers. The trail started at the foot of the bed and ended at the bathroom.

He swung the mini-fridge open on the way and pulled out a RedBull, the can hissing as it opened. It was still cold, which was a small mercy. He stepped into the bathroom, turned the water up hot, and walked straight into the steam.

The door of the bathroom stayed open. He didn’t care.

A few minutes later, he heard it: the door unlocking, the faint creak as it swung open. Tyler didn’t flinch. He leaned against the back wall, water slicking down his tattooed chest, hair flattened to his forehead, RedBull in hand.

He took a sip. Glanced toward the open door.

"Shower in my room was busted" he said, voice all lazy and low. Then, flashing a little grin "Figured you wouldn’t mind me crashin' yours. Promise I didn’t touch your soap... much."

Another sip. He didn’t move to cover himself. Just stood there, bare and unapologetic, steam curling around him like fog on a lake. His flaccid on full display, a sprinkle of wet hair framing that brazen picture.

"...you always leave your door unlocked like that?" he teased, tilting his head. "It's dangerous out here, y’know. You could've ended up with someone way worse.”⠀