I'm going to apologise here, because I just started watching Buffy again, so it's likely that I'm going to mix up the vampires of Twilight with those of Buffy in regards to what their limitations are, what they can eat, how they appear. So sorry in advance.
"How do you do it?" It was a question he heard very often. "How do you stay so calm all the time? So composed?"
His answers varied; sometimes he told them it was tea that he drank. Sometimes he said it was a mindset that came with the job. Sometimes, if he felt like screwing around with people, he said it was because he meditated every day. Went to church. Was just That Sort of Guy.
Never in a thousand years would he tell his patients, his co-workers, the concerned loved ones of those he was treating the truth. There was no way, he knew, that they would be able to handle it.
xXxXx
With the weather-induced car accidents, the strange animal attacks, and Bella's clumsiness, Charlie was in the hospital a lot. Mainly, he had to stick around so he could comfort loved ones of the injured or absorb the details so he could write a report, which left him a lot of free time to wander. Plus, before work, he liked to stop in, check on the people he had had to bring in. Which often led to him stopping by Carlisle's office.
The nurses thought it was very sweet, two men being such close friends that one would go out of his way to visit he other. Perhaps their opinion would change if they knew how close, but thankfully, they would never find out.
xXxXx
And so it had become a routine, Charlie stopping in to see patients, to see Carlisle, and to screw him bent over the desk, quickly, like taking a shot of espresso. After this ritual, both could function properly for the next few hours, at least.
xXxXx
If they saw each other before lunch, they found an empty private room, locked the door, and took their sweet time. No one would think to look for either in such a place, or to go in for any other reason. So Carlisle took his time disrobing Charlie, kissing paths all across his slowly-being-bared skin. And Charlie took his time preparing Carlisle, sliding his fingers in and out slowly, lovingly before replacing them with his cock and continuing his gentle ministrations.
The rooms were very well muffled so that no patients would keep each other up, so Carlisle, while not completely letting loose, allowed some of his patently delicious sounds to escape his throat right into Charlie's ear, driving him wild. But wild, they bother understood, was for their next encounter.
xXxXx
At lunch, Carlisle tended to hide in his office so that no one would see him not eating, but he made sure he was always in it, looking like he was doing work even if he was only doing the daily Cryptoquote in case any one asked why he wasn't eating.
So when he went to the bathroom, he was actually snatched by Charlie and stolen into a closet, where Charlie usually proceeded to suck him off quickly, down on his knees on the cold linoleum floor. Carlisle had one hand in Charlie's hair, gripping the curls as gently as he could, the other clenched between his teeth so that he wouldn't shout.
xXxXx
On the way home from the station Charlie passed by the hospital, unless he was already there due to some accident. Either way, afternoon usually found the pair in another closet, kissing fervently, as though the last time they had seen each other had been much longer than four or five hours.
In the lazy, or bus afternoon, they couldn't find the effort in them to have anything other than intercrural sex, even though that meant more to clean up later. To make sure no one could open the door and surprise them, Carlisle usually had Charlie pressed against it, grinding into him hard and fast. Charlie's breath was ragged and loud in his ear, in his hair as he buried his head against Charlie's shoulder. He focussed intently on not hurting Charlie too much as he held tightly onto his hips. On a good day, he only left bruises. He would have felt guilty, he supposed, had Charlie not seemed so turned on by it.
xXxXx
It was the evenings alone that were the most relaxing. When no one was home but them and they had a bed that was actually comfortable, Carlisle could be as loud as he wanted—very loud—and Charlie could be as slow as he wanted—painfully, beautifully slow. They weren't often alone in either's house together, but they savoured the times they were, taking advantage of the privilege to lie lazily in each other's arms and kiss slowly. To take the time to talk, to touch slowly, to learn every odd place on the other's body, every place that had the other turned boneless in pleasure. To take the time to revel in their inexhaustible desire.
xXxXx
Better than any drug, more reliable than years of practised patience, more efficient than exercise or sleep, more enjoyable than a good diet, and more secret than anything, was Carlisle's way of staying relaxed and calm. What Carlisle had that no one else did, that one else ever would, was Charlie.