Summary: Remember that time Cas turned up naked on the hood of the Impala covered in bees? Yeah, so does Dean.

Okay, so, this was written because, apparently I'm a fuckin' perv when I have the flu. Also, I wanted to write Dean with his tongue up his angel's ass. Can't go wrong with that, amirite? No regrets. Kripke owns, I own nothing except any mistakes (aka this is unbeta'd).



The first thing that registers in Dean's brain is, Holy shit, dude's naked. He doesn't even notice the bees at first, the soft buzzing noise that accompanies them completely lost to him when all he can see is pale skin and lean muscle for days. And even when Dean does notice the bees, it only throws him off for a second before he smells the honey that Cas is coated in, giving that pale skin a shiny golden glow. And the way Cas is just sitting there, on the hood of the Impala, butt-ass naked and covered in bees and honey with his fucking legs spread like that, is driving Dean nuts for some reason.

The strength of Dean's own response startles him. He's against Castiel before he even realizes he's moved. Even after the betrayal he suffered at Cas' hands, and the fear of the Leviathan within him, and believing he was dead, Dean simply can't stop himself anymore. His friend is crazy as hell right now, but Dean knows he may never have the old Cas back, and this may very well be his last chance – Dean'll probably die trying to gank Dick. So why the fuck not do all the things he's always wanted to do to his angel over the years?

Dean's mouth covers Cas' at once, pausing only to request, "Call off the bees, Cas" against his angel's lips. As the buzzing moves away from them, Dean's mouth blazes a trail of nips and kisses down to Cas' sticky neck. The honey is starting to dry now, but the sweetness invades his senses and Cas is gasping next to his ear and clutching his shoulders and – fuck – Dean's getting hard.

"Lay back," he grunts, and then moves with Cas as the angel obliges, leaning over him and taking a sticky-sweet nipple in his mouth. "Jesus fuck, Cas. You taste incredible."

Cas doesn't reply; not with words, anyway. He arches and keens and twists his fingers through Dean's hair, though, and Dean figures he can live with that. Cas' dick is a hard exclamation point against Dean's hip, and Dean shifts a little, bringing the angel's hard-on right beside his own, and he thrusts. The friction pulls a low groan from Cas that makes the hair on the back of Dean's neck stand up. Dean wants to kiss him again, reacquaint himself with the taste of Cas' tongue, but his chest is too sweet – too delicious to pull away from. Dean thinks he could do this forever, lave at his angel's skin while Cas writhes beneath him and pulls at Dean's hair.

After cleaning both of Cas' nipples of honey, Dean moves down Castiel's chest to dip his tongue in the angel's navel. Cas' response – rolling his hips up to find some sort of friction against his cock – is encouragement enough for Dean to swirl his tongue inside the angel's belly button to entice another gravelly groan from his throat. Cas' fingernails are starting to dig into Dean's scalp now, as he sucks and licks and bites at each of Castiel's sharp hipbones. Dean lightly brushes the pad of his thumb up Cas' dick to swipe across the slit, spreading the clear bead of moisture pearled there over the head.

Dean wants to taste him there, too – wants to know what Cas feels like in his mouth, and how the honey and precome will combine to make an entirely new flavor – but it's not time for that just yet. Dean is on his knees in front of Cas now, licking and sucking and biting at his soft inner thighs, and he can't help but notice how Cas trembles, how his muscles jump and twitch beneath his skin. Dean was planning to clean every inch of Castiel's body of honey, but the way Cas' dick is leaking copious amounts of clear sticky fluid onto his belly, and the way his own cock is threatening to burst the zipper of his jeans, Dean figures he won't be able to prolong the teasing much more.

"Dean!" Cas gasps, as Dean delivers a somewhat harsh bite to the angel's thigh. He kisses and licks the spot in apology, and then Cas is sitting up and pushing Dean's overshirt off his shoulders. "Take these off," he urges, pulling frantically at Dean's clothes. Apparently he isn't acting fast enough for his angel, because before Dean can even take a breath, Cas is ripping his tee-shirt right down the middle of his chest and tearing it away from him. Cas pulls Dean to his feet and deftly – desperately – unbuckles his belt and pulls the zipper tag on his jeans down. Dean only has a split second to appreciate the way it lessens the pressure on his aching cock before Cas is pushing his jeans and boxers down in one go.

Cas' hands are everywhere at once; exploring Dean's skin with feather-light touches, over the backs of his legs, his ass, his hips and abs and ribs… but never once does Cas touch Dean's cock. He teases the area around it, digging his thumbs into the soft flesh at the juncture of Dean's thigh and groin, and sweeping his fingers through the coarse curls at the base of his shaft. He's staring up at Dean tentatively, as if asking what he's supposed to do next.

"Fuck, Cas," Dean breathes. "I got you, angel. Gonna take care of you, alright? Just… here, there's somethin' I wanna do."

Dean is back on his knees, in the V between Cas' legs, letting his fingertips ghost over thighs and hips and lean, fluttering abdominals. The tip of Dean's tongue traces a wet line up the underside of Cas' cock, and Dean can hear the hitch in his breath and taste the dried honey and the way Cas fists his hair just makes him want to do it again. His eyes dart up to look at his angel; the picture presented to him is the most erotic thing Dean has ever had the pleasure of seeing. Cas is leaning back on his elbow, one foot propped up on the Impala's fender, with his head tipped back and his chest heaving and his hand just clutching at Dean's hair like it's a fucking lifeline.

So Dean takes Cas' length between his thumb and first two fingers, and angles it toward his lips. He flicks his tongue into the slit, his first real taste of angel – sweetbittersaltydeliciousfuckingheavenly– and then closes his lips over the head. Castiel lets loose a moan so beautiful it makes Dean's dick leak and drip down his shaft. The salty-sweet mixture of honey and skin and precome on Dean's tongue is like nothing he's ever tasted; dark, rich, and utterly addictive.

Cas is thrusting up into his throat, and Dean is struck with the sudden realization that he hasn't done this in years, not since Sam was at Stanford and pool games to hustle were scarce. And even then he didn't enjoy it like he is now, getting off on the noises Cas is making above him, the way his hips twitch at the back of Dean's throat. When Dean sucks him down to the root – allowing Cas' cock to slide a couple centimeters down his throat – and swallows, the angel's fingers twist almost painfully in his hair and his head slams into the hood of the car as he throws it back in what can only be described as frustrated ecstasy. Dean grips the base of Cas' cock in his fist to stave off his imminent climax, swirls his tongue wetly around the head as he slides back up. For a while, he lets Cas set the pace, his hips thrusting and Dean expertly swallowing around him. The noises Cas is making is only cranking the fire in Dean's gut up higher and hotter.

"Dean, Dean, oh, Dean…" Cas pants, like it's the only word in his vocabulary. "Dean, I… I want to… I wish to do something for you, Dean," he finally manages shakily.

It takes his brain a few minutes to register through the haze of lust, but when it does, Dean releases Cas' cock from his mouth and stands, hovering over a quivering, shuddering, positively wrecked and undone Angel of the Lord, and looks him over. He can see Cas' pulse racing beneath the skin of his neck, notices the way his hips shift in search of some sort of touch. Dean is amazed Castiel has lasted as long he has – even more amazed at himself for not just saying "to hell with it" by now and just fucking the angel raw.

But Dean honestly wants to do this thing right; wants to make sure Cas loves it and never forgets it. Dean wants to love it and never forget it, too, but it's not about Dean right now. Right now is about Cas, and Dean showing him the only way he knows how that he forgives him, that somewhere deep within, Dean does love him and want him and need him in a way he's never loved, wanted, or needed anyone before.

So Dean climbs onto the hood of the Impala, leans his back against the windshield, and pulls Cas into his lap. Their cocks rub together, slippery from saliva and precome, and Dean grunts something that could be Cas' name as he wraps both their hands around them. "C'mon," he breathes. "Help me. Move your hand, Cas, up and down." Cas does, squeezing at the head in just the way Dean likes. "Yeah, just like that, angel," Dean groans.

And then Cas' mouth is on his again, coaxing Dean's lips open with a quick, curious tongue as he all but bounces in Dean's lap. Dean is thrusting with wild abandon into their joined hands, sliding his dick against Cas', and Cas is moaning and rubbing his ass all over Dean's thighs. Dean spreads his legs, and in doing so parts Castiel's asscheeks, and then his free hand is sneaking behind his angel to poke and rub at the puckered opening. Cas moans into Dean's mouth, his body unsure if it wants to thrust up into their hands or back against Dean's teasing digit.

"You want this, Cas?" Dean asks against wet, parted lips, in a voice so low he's almost sure Cas didn't hear it, but the angel's honest-to-god whine in response tells Dean he probably did hear. "You want me to play with your ass, angel? Want my fingers in there?" He's whispering in Cas' ear now, between moans to spur the angel on and sharp nips to his earlobe. "Want my dick in there? Or do you want my tongue in there?" Castiel shivers, bucks into their linked hands, and fucking whimpers. "Jesus fuck, Cas. You want my tongue in your ass, don't you? Fuck." He's light headed, dizzy at the prospect of licking an angel's ass, and then he remembers: there's probably honey there, too. "Yeah, Cas, c'mere. Turn around, straddle me just like you're doin' now, angel." Cas obeys, and Dean shuffles himself down so he's at the right level.

In one move, Dean parts Cas' cheeks, his tongue licking a broad, wet stripe from Cas' balls, up his perineum and across his hole. And God, it's like the angel anticipated this, because the layer of honey here is so thick and sweet that Dean can't taste anything else. He groans, loud and low, as Cas' tongue sneaks out to taste the head of Dean's cock. "Suck it, angel, don't just lick it," he commands, and all at once Cas' mouth covers him, takes him down to the root like Dean did for him, and starts up a vicious suction that forces an admittedly girly sound from Dean's throat. He's back to eating Cas' ass with gusto, slurping and probing the tight little ring with the tip of his tongue. And his angel is moaning around his cock sending vibrations down his shaft to make his balls tingle with sensation. He thrusts up, into Castiel's throat, reveling in the pleasurable contraction of the angel's esophagus around the head that sends an almost electrical current through his veins.

Two of Dean's fingers slide into Cas easily, hastily followed by his tongue as it laps just at the sensitive opening.

"More," Cas pleads on a moan, his mouth so full of cock that it almost doesn't sound like a word at all, and Dean can't help but obey, pushing both thumbs into his angel and spreading him open as far as he'll go. His tongue is in Castiel now; he can feel Cas' muscles clenching and squeezing the wet muscle as if trying to suck it deeper inside. Dean can feel the angel's spit rolling down his dick, feel the vibrations from Cas' voice – whining and moaning and screaming, Dean thinks sometimes – as he pushes back against Dean's mouth. Cas wants him deeper, Dean can tell, but his tongue and jaw are getting sore. He pulls back far enough to push two fingers into Cas, and watches him tremble in rapture. Dean thrusts his fingers, tiny in and out motions he sometimes uses on himself, then searches out that little clusterfuck of nerves he knows is there.

Cas pulls his mouth off Dean with a start, pushes a low growl out of the back of his throat, and then lets his head fall, and Dean knows he's found it. He concentrates on that spot, rubbing and pressing and still making sure his tongue never stops its ministrations on the sensitive (and probably tender, by now, Dean figures) rim. Dean can feel it building, the orgasm that's creeping its way from his belly down his spine and into his balls. Cas is close, too, if the way his inner walls are clenching and clinging around his fingers is any indication.

Cas' hands are spreading Dean's legs further apart, pulling his knees up for access to his entrance. Dean spreads to accommodate him, and Cas' finger traces circles over Dean's hole.

"Gonna come, Cas," Dean warns breathlessly, with just enough time for Cas to pull off if he wanted to. But instead Cas just seems more encouraged, if possible, and sucks Dean all the way down again.

"Fuck – Cas!"

And that's all it takes for Dean to come – hard – down Castiel's throat, making his angel groan and swallow around him. Cas clenches around his fingers, and Dean grinds the pads of his fingers into the angel's prostate. And just like that, Cas releases Dean's softening cock from his mouth and climaxes, sticky release coating Dean's stomach. Dean works him through it, thrusting his fingers and once again probing gently with the tip of his tongue.

When Cas finishes, he just collapses, his body shaky and his heart threatening to beat out of his chest and on to Dean's legs.

"So…" Cas sighs, a smile in his voice. "The bees and honey were a good idea then?"

And Dean just chuckles and shakes his head because, honestly, what can he say to that?


90% of this was written when I had a fever of 102.4 (that's 39.1, for the Celsius folk).

Reviews are lovely.

Final word count: 2536