Certain things still happen faster than the thought to do them. Without pause. Without perusal. Without question. Without planning. Carlisle's mouth crashing into him at pretty much the same instant as the thought to do so.

Leaving his first millisecond stone cold still, and his second with both hands suddenly on his arms, clenched, uncertain even what he means to do with him. Uncertain they are even there the moment after they move, distracted (or is it focused?) on where Carlisle is touching him.

On his lips. On his denial.
(On the offer made minutes ago.)

On the waver that his body gives when Carlisle pulls back.