come_sailaway | 4th Contraption || Truth or Lies (Like Everyone Else!)

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4th Contraption || Truth or Lies (Like Everyone Else!)

Who: César and YOU
What: Truth or lies. Just walking inside from the rain or on the promenade without rain; also special prompt for boyfriend and roomie
When: Month of July
Where: See above
Warnings: Will be added to thread subject lines if necessary!

As happy as César is on the ship, upon discovering that there's something interfering with what he says, he becomes incredibly paranoid. Enough so that he doesn't emerge from 'hiding' until partway through the month, only when he's certain he won't be blabbering any dangerous secrets.

Instead, they'll be embarrassing or emotional, which in some ways, César dreads worse. But he needs to go out and be social. He doesn't want to worry his boys, and there might be others on the ship he can reassure. Also, he's now grown fascinated.

1. Rain, rain, go away. [OTA, choose truths or lies]

César walks outside in the rain as an experiment. Yes. He's getting wet on purpose. Is it all water? Once he's properly drizzled, he walks back inside with a grin.

He's aware he's probably under the effects now, but at the same time, he'll have no idea what he's really saying until the hour is over. It's so interesting! César spots a victim and walks over to them, grinning and staying quite a decent amount away.

If it's lies: "My hair is filled with stars. It is an ocean of twinkling light."

If it's truths: "I dye my hair to hide the stress grays."

And regardless, he ends with: "Can you tell me what I just said, please? ... Oh, and hello!" An embarrassed grin, realizing he's forgotten that part.

2. Icing Himself [OTA, choose unaware truths or lies]

César got himself a mixed drink on a non-rainy day and is now sitting at a small table in the promenade. The drink is gone. However, the ice cubes aren't. There's absolutely no way he's going to let those go to waste. He has that first one mostly gone when he spots someone and crunches down on it so he can greet them warmly without something in his mouth.

If it's truths: "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

If it's lies: "Shit day, isn't it?"

BONUS. Cabins. [Residents of Cabins 102 and 107, truths only]

As interesting as this all is, sometimes he just doesn't want to deal with it. César comes out of the bathroom wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants. Seeing the bed unoccupied, he walks over and flops onto it.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The rain has his leg aching a bit, and he's tired of pretending it doesn't, so Watson comes back to the room with every intention of hiding for a little while.
He pauses in the doorway, before closing the door behind him and limping over to look at César.

"Are you all right?"

César rolls from his stomach to his side, looking up at Watson. "I all right; I'm loved here. I just hate the joy of water being taken from me."

He hadn't seen the limping, and it'll be a moment before he realizes Watson's in pain.

Yes, well, no one asked you to fuss, so you can carry on not noticing it, mister.

"It's a little tiresome, isn't it?" Watson sighs. "We're eternally being caught between sounding like fools or baring our soul without realising it. It's exhausting." He reaches down to traces his fingers over César's temple. "You should see my diary. I've had to cross out whole pages of nonsense."

Edited 2022-07-12 03:37 (UTC)

Hey, hey, he knows better than to fuss now, but he'd make room for Watson to lie down with him sooner.

César's eyes slide closed at the fingers on his temple, wanting to focus on the feeling of them, and he has to fight back a grin. "Oh, no." He is sympathetic, though; he also turns his head a little to press into those fingers (pls continue).

"... It's incredibly tiresome. But I don't mind baring my soul to you. You already know what's hurt me the most." He blinks his eyes open, glancing up at Watson. "What's the silliest thing you've written so far? Anything funny?"

Edited 2022-07-12 04:00 (UTC)

"Oh, look at you, nosing your way into a man's private writing," Watson scoffs. "But there's been an implausible murder or two, and the theft of a jewelled hairpin. Once, an escaped flamingo on a rampage."

He strokes César's cheek again, before tugging gently on his beard. "Here, you. Perhaps you'd like to make room for me? Unless you'd prefer to be alone right now."

There's a laugh at the escaped flamingo. Sorry. He can see it in his mind's eye. Watson's little tug makes him smile wider.

César catches Watson's wrist so he can kiss his palm gently, then releases him. He rolls a full 360 degrees to make room, still laying on his side. Watson is in luck today, and César's distracted enough that he can't see Watson masking his light aches.

"No, no, I don't want to be alone. I'll always find room on the bed for you, mi osito." César gestures for Watson to join him with his free arm. "I'd never nose into your diary unless it was the difference between life and death. But your lies have been wonderfully entertaining. A flamingo! Falling in love with a doctor-writer has been one of my best ideas. Come, come, I want to cuddle, my dear!"

"The flamingo was also the murder weapon," Watson admits, easing himself down onto the bed with as little stiffness as he can show. It is a relief to get the weight off his leg, though. "It's not even good fiction, César. It's incoherent. I'll be first to admit that sometimes I've stretched the truth a little for the sake of dramatic tension or to obscure a sensitive party, but there are limits."

He rolls onto his side, facing César, and obediently shifts himself closer. "It's not all that implausible, you know, but I take offence to it anyway."

Watson has learned how to thoroughly distract César. A flamingo as a murder weapon. It's hard to notice your lover is doing well covering his stiffness if you're too busy holding back laughter for his sake.

"Lo siento, mi amor. I know I shouldn't laugh. But I can't help it. That's the sort of random humor my generation thrives off of." César reaches over to cup Watson's cheek, thumb brushing the edge of his mustache. "I love you, nonsensical lies and all."

He chuckles, and leans in to kiss César gently. "I love you too. I'm glad you appreciate the absolute disaster my diary has become. Never let it be said I cannot laugh at myself a little."

Success! He can stop pretending a little. Watson stretches out, with a satisfied sigh of relaxation. "Ava found my lies very amusing, too. I suppose there's some value in them for that. And that's better than accidentally oversharing and not realising just how much I said until later. You and Johnny, at least, know most of my secrets."

"It is an absolutely impressive disaster." César teases after returning the kiss, letting out his own happy sigh. "My lies have been fairly innocuous and most of my truths have been... oversharing about emotional things. Not the stuff I can't others hear."

But there's some guilt coming into that smile. "I feel sorry for anyone that comes from my world, though. Everyone's going to know about the emotional situation back home if I'm not more careful."

"I promise not to be too stern with anyone who may have overlooked your emotional well-being, if it makes a difference?"

It's not much of a promise and that's on purpose. Watson is sensible enough to avoid making any particular stances on an entirely theoretical situation. Idly, he trails his fingertips over César's cheek. "I do hope this situation isn't permanent. I'm getting rather tired of it."

"It is bothersome. I really hope this doesn't last."

A bit of a laugh, and César gently kisses Watson again, careful to not dislodge the hand on his cheek. They're sharing the same pillow, now, apparently. César just looks at him, full of love.

"Just remember they were just coworkers and... Rex is sixteen. He's a good kid, but he's like me and.. well, I only really learned your supposed to look at faces to see people's emotions only recently."

He breathes out a sigh and closes his eyes. "But I don't want to talk about it. I want to talk about other things. You are really handsome. And you have an excellent mustache. I like feeling it when you kiss me. I like the way you touch me. Make me feel sexy."

Then he keeps on talking. "But sometimes I wish we'd slow down a bit when we're having sex because you and Johnny go so fast that I can hardly keep up. I'm getting really overstimulated sometimes, even if I'm really still enjoying myself. But I keep not saying anything in the moment because I'm hyper-focused, and it's really good at preventing me from getting distracted at all. I like that part. Did you know I can get distracted during sex like anything else? And then... i forget a lot until the next time."

Oh, César knows he's blabbering on about something, but not exactly what. But it's probably something he needs to say. Right? Take advantage of this? Yet there's a small surge of anxiety because that was a lot. He shuts up, a bit of quiet worry going across his expression as he watches Watson's face.

"César."

Watson half rises a little, alarmed. "Do you know what you're saying right now? Do you--" He breaks off, trying to work out where to start. He's positive that César isn't stuck lying at the moment. He's never seen anyone shift partway through a conversation. So this must be truth, right? And that's... upsetting. That's the last thing he would ever want to do.

"Have I been making you uncomfortable in our lovemaking? Have I pressed you to do something you didn't want to do? My dear fellow, that has never been my intent, I swear."

César looks confused at the alarm, and then there's a flash of embarrassed horror as he listens. What had he told him? Did he imply something awful just now?

"I can't really tell what I'm saying." That's a truth; César has regained control of his expression, looking quietly worried. "I love you."

Still truths; César reaches up to cup Watson's face, looking incredibly concerned, his voice higher but not louder. "You've never made me do something I didn't want to do. But I don't know—maybe? maybe the speed makes me a little uncomfortable? I can't tell because it's often goes so quickly. But it's never bad. I've always enjoyed myself."

Oh god he's saying a lot, and César looks stares into Watson's face, trying to figure out what he just said. "John? My god. What am I saying? Is it bad?"

Watson makes a small, frustrated sound. This is far too important conversation to be having when César doesn't know what he's saying. He reaches for César's hand, squeezing it gently.

"You're telling me," he says, slowly and deliberately, "that Johnny and I have a tendency to go too fast. That you get overwhelmed by the experience. Love..." He shakes his head. "Don't tell me this is something you've been troubled over, all this time."

"... Oh." The sound is strangely flat, even as César looks crestfallen and all the worry is replaced by an immediate, resigned acceptance.

His holds Watson's gaze for a moment more before looking very slowly away, clearly considering that statement. For a moment, he shifts as if to remove his hand, then doesn't. César knows he can't control what he'll say. But it's important for him to think about it anyway.

When he speaks again, his voice is quiet, mildly confused, his gaze staying lowered.

"I'm always happy and satisfied in the end, so I keep forgetting about it. Seems silly to complain. You both love me so. I told myself it was just my inexperience...."

What is he saying? God. He doesn't know what he's saying.

"Your inexperience," he repeats, disbelieving.

Watson lays down again, wrapping himself around César protectively. There's something heartbreaking about this. "It's for you as much as it is for us, my dear. You shouldn't have to feel like you're tolerating any part of it. Maybe some of it is your inexperience, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be able to tell us to slow down. I can only speak for myself, but... I'm sorry, César. I should have noticed."

It'd be a lie to say it's been a long time since César last cried (Father's Day), but this almost resets the counter. Watson hugging him, protective and supportive. He can figure out what he said from Watson's words, and he's so grateful that Watson understands in an instant. As he knew he would.

César buries his face into Watson's shoulder and breathes in his familiar scent. "You couldn't see because I hid it from myself." A pause. "... can we slow down during sex...?"

He hopes he's asking properly. That sounded like a question.

"Love. Of course." And then, because everything needs to be restated right, "I'll try to be more considerate. And if you need me to stop, and I don't realise, tell me. I want you to enjoy the act as much as I do."

There's a little agony in his voice, but he runs his fingers through César's hair fondly. "Maybe I've just been... overeager."

César closes his eyes at the hands in his hair, shifting so his cheek is resting on Watson's shoulder instead. "We've all been very eager; it's not just you. ... I'll tell you. I promise. If I ever get overstimulated, too. I'm sorry I didn't speak up sooner."

He hmms. "At least one good thing came out of this, eh?"

"I'm glad you were truthful," Watson says, his voice low. "Even if it was... not what you would have intended."

He falls silent, thinking and quietly stroking. This is a lot for him to take in, really, and even if he's already leapt to solving the problem, he's still working his mind around it. "I was teasing and said I liked you bold," he says at last. "Was that unkind of me?"

César will have to tell the truth regardless, but he lets himself 'mull' it over to make the conversation more natural. His eyes stay closed. Slowly, he starts to puddle in Watson's embrace.

"No, I had already decided I wanted to put my penis up your anus before that. But you might have goaded me on a bit. That's only natural. Still...."

Watson snorts in laughter, despite himself, and hugs César closer as he laughs. "There is a time and place for clinical language, love. I'm an expert, and I know this. Ah, I suppose you can't really help it right now."

But he relaxes again, and goes quiet. "I'll watch my words," he promises. "I tease, César, but I don't want you any other way than how you are. You know this, correct?"

César figures out what he said with a snort. "Oh, I can help myself. I'm just being ornery. Probably."

That little statement gets César to quiet, simply take a few moments to let it sink in, and he kisses Watson's shoulder. "... I know, but I forget. I push myself more than I should in other ways, too."

"You needn't push yourself at all, but I know your type."

Watson starts tracing a finger down the back of César's neck, a delicate stroking. "I would like to know these other ways you push yourself, but I'm not sure it's fair of me to ask right now."

Bonus

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