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God damn it.
He'd stayed at the station far too late again, arriving at the diner after closing time.
Charlie put his foot on the gas and reversed out of the pitch black parking lot, with nothing but the cruiser's dim headlights illuminating the building ahead as he backed away from it.
He zoned out as soon as he was back on the main road, as always, since the drive home was as straight as Walker, Texas Ranger, with nothing eventful along the way. Usually.
Yep, it was smooth sailin’, ‘til a doe crossed his path, prancing over the road.
Suddenly torn from his manly reverie by the edge of the woods, Charlie slammed on the brakes. The patrol car skidded until it came to a halt bouncing as though every one of its tires had just burst.
“What the hell?” He muttered, unbuckling his seatbelt (safety first, kids) and clambering out of the driver’s side. Full beams pierced the descending fog and highlighted the road ahead as Charlie placed his hands on his hips, scanning the dark area for any sign of the doe.
It was gone. Unharmed, probably.
He clicked his tongue and turned, crouching to assess the damage to his township-approved threadbare tires. A shudder engulfed him when reality and the cool Summer night breeze hit him.
Deep, short slashes were embedded through every single one… as though some kinda animal had gnawed at them the way he wished he could gnaw on Pamela Anderson’s ass, because he is a very heterosexual man with very heterosexual urges.
Ominous whooshing sounds reverberated from beyond the treeline, and Charlie frowned, turning away from Pamela’s ass. The tires. He meant the tires. Those two things are totally comparable, right? Also, he could have sworn he’d seen a glimpse of the Black Eyed Peas retreating into the woods, through the fog.
“I’m enjoying this Tom Selleck look you've got going, Charlie.”
He lifted his eyes to see Carlisle Cullen, Forks Community Hospital’s newest Chief Doctor, pacing towards him so… fluidly, like the guy was walking on a travelator. Charlie shuddered. Dr. Cullen had only been around for a few months, but he knew enough to know the man was creepy. The kind of creepy that gave Charlie butterflies that meant nothing because they were both men, and he really wanted to tongue punch the Baywatch babe’s fart box.
What kinda grown man was that blond in the first place?
Anyway: Renee had never wanted him to grow the ‘stache, and it had taken him years after she left, to get around to growing it. It was nice for someone to finally appreciate his very serious Magnum P.I. endeavour.
Charlie hauled himself up as Dr. Cullen came to pause before him. “Did you…” He searched beyond the man’s shoulder, “Dude, where's your car?”
“Where’s my car, dude?” Carlisle smiled, brilliant white and charming against the paleness of his skin. “I was out on one of my hot girl walks.” He rotated his lower half slightly and gestured to his rear. “Keeps the buns ready.”
Unconsciously licking his lips, Charlie heterosexually tore his gaze from the good doctor’s perfectly rounded ass. “Ready… for what? ”
“For the glizzy,” He said, matter-of-fact.
Charlie smiled politely and nodded. He had no idea what a glizzy was, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to know. “Oh-kay… so, anyway, I’ve got four burst tires. Somehow.” His hands came to rest on his hips again as he shifted his weight.
Carlisle narrowed his unsettling amber gaze. “How odd. You got a spare? Even just one—”
“Uh, I don’t know,” He maneuvered around the deliciously scented man’s form, heading for the buns of the car. “I’ll have to check.” He popped the trunk and rolled his eyes at the sight. “The… the guys at the station. Playin’ a prank.”
Two cans of Rainier, a cordless power drill, and a cob of corn.
“A drill. Perfect, do you do lobotomies?” He mumbled.
Carlisle quirked a pale brow. “You wanna bottom for me?”
“What?”
“Heehee! Who said that?”
“Don't do that. You sounded like Michael Jackson.” Charlie couldn't tell him about his very real Heeheephobia.
Carlisle spun a full circle on his heel, jerking his hips forward as he brought a strong hand to cup himself. “Shamone.”
Every hair stood on end as Charlie swallowed the lump in his throat and darted his widening gaze back into the trunk. Maybe Harry Clearwater had a point about this guy. He was… fabulous . “Well, I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” He dipped a hand into his pocket, extracting his cell phone and flipping it open. A deep, exhausted sigh left him when he realised the battery was dead. “That’s just great.”
“You know,” Carlisle drawled, suddenly very close to Charlie. He brought his knuckles to stroke the upper sleeve of the chief’s thick police jacket. “I’ve always thought the cop thing was… hot.”
Charlie (straight) gulped as the crotch of his standard issue pants tightened in response to the light touch. They were just shootin’ shit, right? What could be manlier? “Uh, yeah? C-cool. That’s cool. That’s… cool.”
“Very cool, Charlie.” Carlisle chuckled. His golden eyes met Charlie’s — studying him.
He could have sworn they looked even more unnaturally bright than mere minutes ago. “Your eyes…”
Carlisle’s smile fell, and he blinked in quick succession. “Oh. It’s… the fluorescents.”
Charlie whipped his head around. It was the middle of the night, on the long road leading out of town. The only lights here were the beams shining from the cruiser’s headlights at the front, and the soft glow of red rear lights right by them. “The—what? There aren’t any—”
“Ssshhhh,” Carlisle cooed, pressing a frozen finger to Charlie’s lips. “Don’t worry about it, beautiful.”
He didn’t know what had possessed him, but Carlisle calling him beautiful had unlocked something repressed within him. The way he said it had been so simultaneously enticing and girly pop, Charlie couldn’t help but to feel bonita. And looking into the Wite-Out-pale man’s honeyed eyes, he couldn’t help noticing that Carlisle could be… someone whose fart box he’d like to tongue punch. He cleared his throat and broke the shared look, grabbing whatever his hand wrapped around first in the trunk. Then he slammed it shut, and turned to face Dr. Cullen.
With the cordless power drill in hand.
He stuffed it into his inner jacket pocket for safekeeping. What the hell was he gonna do with a drill ? Maybe he’d actually give himself a labuby, or whatever the kids were calling them these days (he didn’t know because he regularly ‘forgot’ to text his daughter back, except he didn’t forget, he was just weirded out by how pale she was despite living in Arizona).
Carlisle moved in even closer, and Charlie noticed him forcing air out of his nostrils like a leaf blower.
Enough was enough.
He grit his teeth as he spoke, low and monotonous. “Perfect blond hair, slicked back. A flawless complexion. You're always dressed so god damn impeccably in those expensive clothes. I know what you are, Carlisle.”
A grin spread across the pale man’s face. “Say it. Out loud.”
“A f—”
“You better not say what I think you're about to Charlie, that's a literal slur—”
“—reaky guy.”
Carlisle let out a huge sigh of relief. “Oh,” He lifted his brow, “Well. Yes, I suppose that is true.”
They spent a moment in awkward silence, listening to the breeze gliding through the branches of the trees before Carlisle spoke again, raking those goddamned eyes over him. “So… four ruined tires, no way to call for help. How about we have some fun, Charlie?”
He should just walk home and call a tow truck.
However, the offer of fun was too intriguing for tired, overworked and lonely Charlie Swan.
“What did you have in mind?”
Carlisle broke into a devilish grin and cocked his head towards the woods behind them. “The longer the chase, Charlie.”
He didn’t know what possessed him, but that smile —that damn smile— stirred the strange feeling in him that had been awoken earlier. It was… energising. Riveting.
Charlie wanted to do something crazy .
So he broke into a run, leaving Carlisle behind as he minced his way through the darkness of the western cedars, giggling. “He’ll never catch me. I’m like a whippet!”
Twigs and leaves crunched beneath his boots as he flailed through the woodland, touching the rough bark of every single tree along the way. His eyes adjusted eventually, but it was still pitch black in the thicket.
He paused, hugging a trunk, with nothing but the sound of laboured breathing and low buzzing as he sucked in the cold, moist air. It felt far too still. “Carlisle?”
Impossibly silent and lightning fast he arrived, and arms colder than the frigid air slid around Charlie's middle before pushing him into the tree. “I can't help thinking that you want to bottom for me, Charlie.”
Charlie gulped. It was true, he did. But how would Carlisle know that? “Wh-what makes you think that?”
“Because you asked ‘Can I be your bottom, me?’ ”
“No — I said ‘Do you do lobotomies?’”
The pressure around Charlie's waist disappeared. “Oh… that makes even less sense. So then this has been nothing more than a misunderstanding.”
“Oh. But… I brought the drill.”
“Say less.”
Carlisle pressed him into the bark again as they wrestled with one another’s pants. Charlie's own throbbing cock finally sprang free, just as a thick block of ice wedged between his ass cheeks.
“What the fuck —”
“Bad circulation.”
Charlie nodded. Of course, that totally explained why his cock would be solid and cold, and he was a doctor. Who was Charlie to question a doctor ? “Yeah, that's fair.”
A cold hand came to grasp the warmth of his length and he hissed. “It's been so difficult since Renee left.”
“That's a long time,” Carlisle drawled as his frosty fist reminiscent of a slushy cup began to pump. “Let me make it easy for you, Charlie.” He pulled at the cop’s jacket and shirt, exposing the pulse point of his neck.
Cold lips traced the flesh there, and Charlie shuddered. He smelled like an iced matcha latte. Or… y’know, grass. Because Charlie is a manly man who mows the lawn. “You’re… freezing. Shoulda worn a jacket.”
Carlisle chuckled, the sound vibrating against gooseflesh. “Yes… I suppose I should have,” He retreated slightly.
Dripping sounds followed a low growl as Charlie’s eyes rolled back. The heat of his swollen cock in Carlisle’s cold hand made for a euphoric sensation, sending jolts through him with each stroke. He sighed, leaning back into the cold, muscular chest bracketing him. Then, cool slickened fingers dipped into his hole, preparing him for what he hoped would come next. What had that viscous dripping sound been? Whatever it was was being used to lubricate his ass. Charlie tried to focus, but Carlisle began to thrust, pushing against his sweet spot as he continued fisting his cock.
“How… god damn it, how is this so good? ” Charlie wasn’t sure he was even in control of his own faculties anymore. He’d never felt pleasure like this. Not even when Renee had insisted on pegging him with a lumpy cob of corn, once or twenty-two times. Not that he’d counted.
Carlisle moaned by Charlie’s ear, basking in his pleasure. “Years and years of practice.”
Lowering his eyes to watch the hand that was gliding over his cock, Charlie noticed it almost glowed in the dark, glimmering with a sort of luminescence. He darted his gaze to his own hand gripping the tree for comparison. He couldn’t see it through the pitch black of the woods at all, even though it was right in front of him.
His breath caught in his chest, but he managed to squeak: “You’re beautiful.”
Carlisle paused. “Beautiful ? TITSOAK, Charlie.”
He didn’t know whose tits Dr. Cullen wanted him to soak, but right now, he’d agree to anything the man asked him to do. “Happily,” He whimpered.
“Are you ready?” Carlisle asked, extracting his fingers. There was more thick dripping, and then a coppery smell which was wafted around by the chilly breeze. “I’m gonna give it to you.”
“Stick your thermometer in my ass, Dr. Cullen.”
“I—”
“But what is that?” Charlie questioned as the sticky slickness coating the frozen tip prodded at his hole.
“My blood,” He whispered, sending a partially repulsed, but mostly horny shudder down Charlie’s spine before swiftly entering him.
“Hoa hoa hoa hoa hOAAAA!” he moaned as his hot hole was stretched so deliciously by Carlisle's popsicle. He’d always loved the cold, and felt it deep inside him often… just not this deep or this literally.
“Charlie, stop.” Carlisle groaned, securing one hand on the cop’s hip while the other remained wrapped around his throbbing, mortal cock. “Stop moaning like that. Find the will.”
“So— c-c-cold…”
“Yes… but isn’t it good?”
The icy temperature penetrated his very soul. Charlie knew Carlisle was ruining him forever. The thought of a warm, pulsating cock in his ass was enough to send him limp. “Yummy yummy in my butty, Dr. Cullen,” he whimpered,
“Please don't ever repeat that,” Carlisle grunted, his icy length piercing harder than that iceberg when the Titanic collided with it. “The drill, Charlie. It's time.”
Labuby time, already ? Charlie dove into his inner pocket and retrieved the cordless tool.
And as though he could read Charlie's mind, Carlisle let out a low chuckle. “Remove the drill bit.”
In spite of his confusion, Charlie obliged.
“Now hold the trigger,” he drawled, “reach behind you, and hold the back of it to my balls.”
Charlie stilled. “What?!”
“Drill, baby, drill!” Carlisle yelled, snapping his hips.
Charlie fumbled behind him as he jerked back and forth, navigating the bizarrely cold man’s pelvic skeleton and brought the vibrating motor end of the drill to the blond’s taint. He began to moo like a cow.
He didn't know how this was much better than his own hoa hoa hoa hoa hoaaa -ing, but he had to admit that it didn't exactly turn him off, either.
Maybe the guys at the station had a point with that corn cob.
Charlie was so close to coming. But Carlisle was still mooing.
“Why…are you doing that?”
Carlisle slapped his ass hard. “Doing what?”
Groaning, Charlie leaned back, keeping the drill in its place. How he longed for a labuby. “Making that noise.”
Immediately, Carlisle knocked the drill to the ground and withdrew from Charlie's hole. “You're not getting it. It's not clocking to you.”
He sounded… hurt.
Dead silence as Charlie's breath stilled.
“It's not clocking to you that I'm standing on business, is it?”
And with the next light gust of wind, Carlisle was gone before he even came.
Charlie gathered his things as best as he could in the dark, and limped home, drill in hand.
He lost count of how many times he almost shit himself on that walk. But he made it to the house, and instead of calling a tow truck, he used the bitless drill to finish himself off with.
He released his inhibitions, and really felt the hoa hoa hoa hoa HOAAAAs as they left him. Carlisle hadn't appreciated his song, but his neighbours sure did. One even asked for an encore and joined in from across the street.
His ass took weeks to recover, and to this day, he couldn't bring himself to look at a power drill. Charlie hadn't seen any sign of him for months after that night.
Then his unnaturally pale daughter came to live with him, and ended up in the hospital under Dr. Cullen's care.
He hadn't even really been listening to what the guy was saying, until he caught a ‘hee hee!’ under his breath. Charlie shuddered, and turned away.
Behind him, he felt a faint gust. A chilly breeze, the type that usually sent shivers down his spine as he sensed someone moonwalking nearby.
‘Shamone!’