Let's imagine that Carlisle is still a virgin. Now let's take a "Hero and Leander"-esque approach to the situation. This was inspired by Marlowe's version of the aforementioned story in which Leander uses witty rhetoric to get Hero in bed.
"You've got to be kidding me."
Well if that wasn't supportive, Carlisle didn't know what was.
"Thanks," he said drily, looking down at his scuffed skater shoes instead of at Charlie. Who probably had that gawky expression, like when Carlisle had let the werewolf thing slip once. Who probably was starting to look at him with more distaste than shock.
"Do you want to, or not?"
It was Carlisle's turn to gawk. Had they not just gotten done having this conversation?
"No! Of course not! I like being a virgin," he affirmed.
"That doesn't even make sense."
"Yeah, well-"
"My brain can't even process that," Charlie continued somewhat numbly.
"Don't hurt yourself."
Charlie sat up a little bit straighter in his wicker chair on the porch in back of the house and looked at Carlisle intently. Carlisle thought he was about to be rebuked for the insult, but instead, Charlie said, "It's unnatural not to have sex. Unless you're a nun. You want to be a nun?"
"No, I don't want-" Carlisle began, exasperated.
"Because it would be a sad thing to see your pretty hair all covered up."
"How touching that you feel that way," Carlisle said even more drily. He sighed. "I just want to do the right, honourable thing and not become a slave to my body."
While Charlie was thinking that he wouldn't really mind being a slave to Carlisle's body, what he said was, "Honourable? You know, you're born with your virginity, right?"
"Yeah."
"And to be honourable, you have to do something honourable. So being born with something isn't honourable. Was Hercules born with his strength?"
"Yes."
"Okay. But he was just heroic. You're going for honourable, which you won't achieve unless you do something."
"Okay, but I'm still not sleeping with you," Carlisle replied, for lack of any better argument.
xXxXx
Carlisle wasn't frightened easily, but he near leaped out of his skin and out the nearby open window when Charlie snuck up behind him and said "Show me your virginity." When he had calmed down a little and released the windowsill from a death grip that cracked the plaster, he said, "That sounds incredibly suggestive, and no."
"I didn't mean it be-"
"Well that's how it came out."
"Sorry. I meant, show it to me. Point to it, pick it up, poke it with a stick. Describe what it looks like."
"What? I can't. That's ridiculous," Carlisle scoffed, looking at his clipboard in what he hoped was a very important, busy-looking way, and tried to walk briskly. He was already walking quickly, but it wasn't the same effect as walking briskly. "And anyway, this isn't the time nor the place for this very much one-sided and unwelcome conversation."
"I'm trying to make a point here," Charlie obstinately continued. "If it doesn't exist at all, if it has no being in this world, how can you lose it?"
Carlisle didn't stop moving, but his brain definitely stalled.
"Okay… but I'm still not sleeping with you."
xXxXx
If the hospital hadn't been the right time nor place, the kitchen table in Charlie's house with Bella and Edward in the next room was the polar opposite of "right" time or place.
"God clearly wants you to have sex. It's kind of dishonouring Him when he gives you an ability, a gift, and you throw it away. Why would He like you better if you don't use his gifts? It's like getting a really gaudy egg beater for a birthday and then letting it get all dusty in your basement. Whoever gave it to you is going to be pretty insulted."
"How can an egg beater look gaudy?" Carlisle asked, seizing on the only point he could fight.
"Not the point. You're throwing God's graciousness back in his face."
"The Bible even denounces homosexuality, so don't bring God into this."
"But David, of the Goliath story, was gay. And if you ask me, so was Judas."
"No one did ask you."
"It doesn't change the fact that God made us this way for a reason. If men really weren't supposed to have sex with each other, there wouldn't be a way to. There is, so by denying yourself, you're denying God."
"You're not even religious. You know what? You're just weird. Not even a Catholic, not even an Episcopalian. Just weird."
"Why? Because you can't argue back?"
"Maybe. But I'm still not sleeping with you."
Edward, who had just entered the kitchen, turned paler than he usually was and swiftly exited.
xXxXx
"You're not doing yourself a favour by not having sex. You're like some amazingly delicious fruit, and you're letting yourself ripen until you fall, bloated, to the ground. Do you want that? Because you can't enjoy a fruit that's all fat and gross and squashed on the ground." Carlisle sighed because yes, they were starting this again. He had gotten so comfortable with his head in Charlie's lap, lying on the couch, and then the man had had to open his stupid mouth.
"You mean you can't. And I don't age, so it hardly matters." Carlisle wondered when Charlie had become so eloquent. It was, he guessed, purely thanks to the subject matter.
"It's the principle of the thing. Your body won't age, but your mind and your soul will. Face it, you're heading into over-ripe fruit territory."
"You're not, by comparing me to rotten fruit, endearing yourself to me at all."
"You're missing the-"
"At all," Carlisle reiterated.
"If you take a rose and distil its scent, make into a perfume, you can enjoy it that much longer and it will be that much more beautiful than if you let it waste and whither on the vine."
"Don't bring Shakespeare into this," Carlisle warned.
"I'll bring the Queen of England into this if I have to," Charlie assured him calmly.
Carlisle looked up at him, rolling onto his back.
"Who taught you to argue like this to get into bed with someone?"
"Not someone. You. And I was self-taught. Tell me, should I keep studying?"
Carlisle sat up now, legs tucked under him, and looked straight at Charlie. His hands, suddenly fidgety, rested on his thighs.
"No," he finally decided. "You pass."