So, this is a special request prompt that I promised to write eons ago and have just now been able to finish. So sorry for the wait! But I hope you like it. ;)
Any mistakes are my own and can hopefully be ignored in light of the outrageous imagery I'm presenting you with.
Here's some Dean/Cas/Pie, in blatant pornographic form.
From Scratch
Castiel, being the sentient, multi-dimensional being that he is, has a difficult time compartmentalizing his life. Thankfully this is a problem that Dean understands quite well. Usually.
This time, the angel has gone too far.
When Dean is naked with his crowning glory in-hand and absolutely no blood going to his brain, anticipation racing, skin damp, there is essentially nothing that can stop him from finishing his... plans. And that's the way it should be. It's only natural. That is the very definition of the point of no return.
For Castiel, however, it seems he is plenty capable of letting his angelic responsibilities bleed in at the least opportune moments.
Dean has never been more uncomfortable in his life than the moment when he went from zeroing in on the sex he was literally millimeters from having, to being jarringly, unexpectedly mojo'ed back into his constricting denim and stuffy flannel.
Having been sweaty, naked, and prone on his bed mere moments before, it is less than ideal to suddenly find himself now sweaty, redressed, and standing awkwardly bent (from the raging hard-on shoved suddenly back into his jeans) in the middle of a church on the outskirts of a small town in Argentina.
This, Dean is having a hard time not being irritated about.
He fumes, but Castiel is all business. Dean is shaky and can't concentrate but it seems like Cas can recover, even that far gone, with a blink.
When Castiel mojos them back to their Motel in the ass-crack of nowhere after said Argentinian issue has been dealt with, Dean is itching to get his clothes off. He's not mad at Cas, per se, but he fully intends to put him through the ringer for this one.
"You owe me big time, buddy," he says roughly. "Big time."
"Yes, Dean, I know," Castiel concedes like a shamed Catholic school boy.
And Dean likes it perhaps a little more than he should, so he really hams it up. "That was some cruel bullshit you pulled on me Castiel," he tells him harshly, really hammering the entirety of his name home. "I mean, a guy could really experience some... distress from something like that. I was really gonna show you a good time, and now I'm feelin' kinda unappreciated. I'm starting to think maybe you're not as serious about this as you said."
And it's true, Dean is suffering from a seriously killer case of blue-balls after Cas' angelic spidey-senses interrupted them very nearly pre-coitus.
But it's also true that while Dean is sore and pissed and his ego is a little bruised from knowing that Cas can just up and turn off all that Dean's turned on like the flip of a switch, he also cannot help but bend to the angel's big, blue "sorry" eyes.
"Dean," Castiel steps toward him, eyes so round and vulnerable, utterly pleading - Dean loves it so much it'd be embarrassing if the angel knew the truth. "You must know that I felt I had no choice but to respond to such a desperate plea. You would have done the same, if you had heard the distress of those nuns." He steps directly into Dean's personal space, clutching him tight around his biceps. And if Dean gets a little zing from the manhandling, then that's just an added bonus.
He looks Dean in the eyes, "I have never been more resolved about anything than I am about us."
The trick Dean is playing on his poor, gullible angel loses some of its gusto with the sincerity with which Cas professes his love.
Dean smirks lopsidedly at him, but his eyes are all affection. "You can make it up to me then," he tells him quietly, leaning close.
"Yes," Castiel whispers back, completely distracted by the sight of Dean's lips. "How?"
"Hmm..." Dean teases, leaning back and looking around as if trying to decide.
"Perhaps, there is something I could... do for you..." Castiel implies clunkily.
Dean smiles, "Mmm," he agrees pleasantly. "Like what?" Dean can't help but watch as Castiel's well-established terror over dirty-talk is brought out into the light once again.
His cheeks blush and his eyes flit to the side, "I could... kiss you. A lot."
Dean has to hold in a snort of laughter. "Hm," he fake-considers, "Yeah, kissing... That could do it. Go on."
Cas swallows, "Touch your body?" he offers as though he isn't sure it's even remotely sexy.
This of course only serves to endear him to Dean even more. Dean nods and then motions for Cas to continue.
"...Perform fellatio for you?"
Dean winces as the technical wording, but smiles at Cas, "And?"
"And..." Cas' eye dart from side to side, desperately searching for something else to add, "Pie?"
Dean's eyebrows raise and he makes a happy sound low in his throat. "Why Cas, I didn't know you had it in you," he teases, watching the relief flood Castiel at the knowledge that he must have said the right thing. Even if it is mixed with a little bafflement at Dean's implication, which had of course never occurred to Castiel who was merely drawing the line between what does Dean like - blowjobs, and pie. Without Dean Castiel would never begin to think about putting the two together. He blushes and glances at Dean coyly through his lashes.
"That sounds... very good," Dean leans in and kisses Castiel smoothly, taking control easily from this borderline invincible superman. It is a mind-boggling thrill that never gets old for Dean - being able to hold dominion over this angel, being allowed to be the aggressor. He owns the kiss, Cas melting into him, all of his tension sliding away until he is putty in Dean's hands.
"So whatta ya say Cas?" Dean whispers against his lips. "How about that pie?"
Cas smiles against him and taps his forefinger against Dean's shoulder, where it happens to rest. Dean follows his eyes as they look to the left, where a collection of small dessert plates with individual slices of more kinds of pie than Dean can count in a glance have materialized on a rolling tray by the bed.
Dean can't help it, he laughs, loud and uncensored - he actually did it. The feathery bastard actually got him pie. "You're too good," Dean compliments.
Cas beams up at him, a kind of mischief sparkling in his eye.
By the time they reach the bed Cas' lips are kiss-bitten-red, both of them are naked from the waist up, and Castiel's belt is hanging undone from his slacks.
It's only when Dean shoves him back onto the bed that Cas opens his eyes long enough to see that Dean's got his tie wrapped around one of his hands. He glances at it curiously, and Dean merely smirks back, dropping off his jeans before pulling Castiel's slacks off slowly and then kneeling on the bed between Cas' thighs.
He motions for Cas to sit up, which he does, eagerly, and then Dean waggles his eyebrows at him before unwrapping the blue tie from around his hand, very deliberately. Cas' eyes go dark at the sight, and Dean chuckles. When Dean comes forward, wrapping the tie around Castiel's eyes, the angel doesn't flinch, doesn't pull away or ask what Dean is doing. And Dean loves that too, that Cas trusts him so implicitly now. It's not like Dean could hurt him, but still, there's not a shred of doubt in Cas as Dean tightens the knot in the tie, effectively blinding him.
Dean rests there, on his knees for a moment, looking down at Castiel sitting cross-legged before him in nothing but his boxers with his tie wrapped around his head. He runs his hands heavily through Cas' hair, making sure when he's done it's sticking up all over the place. He takes the angel's chin in hand and lifts his face, leaning down to kiss him. Castiel's hands are a soft comfort, tracing patterns across Dean's thighs as they kiss slowly, indulgently.
When Dean pulls away to settle across from him he chuckles to see that Cas' lips chase his. And Dean doesn't want to disappoint, so he thumbs at the angel's swollen bottom lip and bites down on his own as Castiel's teeth press into his thumb. Dean smirks, reaching over to the rolling tray covered in small plates and portions himself off a small piece of the closest one. He brings the fork to Castiel's lips, "Open up," Dean says playfully.
Castiel can feel the cool metal touching his lip lightly, and he does what he's told. He opens his mouth and is treated to a small forkful of apple pie.
Dean watches, enrapt as Castiel licks his lips, savoring the pie, his brow furrowed in an almost scientific study.
"So," Dean asks, and Cas can hear the smile in his voice, "whatta ya think?"
"Mm," Cas teases, dropping his voice low. He knows by the hitch in Dean's breath how much he likes that sound.
Dean dips the fork into the next plate and brings it again to Cas' lips, "Now this one," Dean commands softly, the fork hovering just before Cas' lips.
Castiel wraps his lips around the fork, pulling the pie off more slowly than is strictly necessary - but he likes that he can feel Dean's rapt eyes on him, devouring the movement.
This bite is sweet, almost too sweet, but good still. He makes another happy sound.
"Pecan," Dean tells him. "Next."
Dean feeds Castiel a sample of every flavor, Castiel's pleased responses becoming more and more explicitly wonton with every taste. Dean hides his need to chuckle, because Cas really is sexy, even when he's trying too hard to be so, and Dean doesn't want to dampen his performance by belittling it with a giggle. He highly doubts, after all, that Cas is enjoying the pie that much.
But when Dean gets to one plate in particular... he just can't resist a little playing around. Castiel makes a big show of sliding the cutlery between his lips and sliding the pie off. But halfway through his exaggerated rumble of pleasure, his face twists into a grimace and he swallows the pie thickly. Dean can't help but laugh and Castiel rolls the flavor around in his mouth, clearly finding it vexing.
"Key Lime," Dean explains, wiping a bit of cream from Cas' mouth with the pad of his thumb.
"I'm not sure I understand the allure of that particular flavor," he admits honestly.
Dean chuckles again, and somewhere in the back of his mind it occurs to hims that he hasn't been this carefree, or smiled this much, in a long time. With this realization, Cas is even more attractive than he was the moment before. Dean comes forward and kisses him simply. "Sorry Cas," he whispers against his lips, "couldn't resist."
Castiel smiles against him and again chases Dean's lips when he backs away. Cas huffs in frustration, reaching out blindly for Dean, his hands landing on the man's thighs and squeezing gently, before reaching further.
"Ah, ah, ah," Dean warns playfully, taking Cas' hands in his and away from his groin.
Castiel grumbles in frustration, "Is this my punishment?" he asks humorlessly.
Dean merely chuckles and kisses him quickly, once more, earning him what he's sure would have been a glare of disapproval.
"Here, try this," Dean's voice comes out low and thick as he dips his finger into the syrup of the cherry pie and brings it up to hover in front of Cas' mouth. Castiel's lips are parted expectantly, and when Dean touches his fingertip to Cas' bottom lip, Cas leans forward, wraps his lips around Dean's finger and sucks the syrup off. And the surprised, happy little gravel-groan that he lets out against Dean's sugar-slick finger has Dean swallowing comically loudly.
Castiel sucks a little more thoroughly than is strictly necessary, making a real show of it. He can't help it, Dean is completely absorbed in the moment and he can feel the man sway closer and closer.
When he pulls off Dean's finger with a pop, he licks his lips, Dean's eyes tracking the movement.
"It is pleasant," Cas says, sincerely.
Dean surprises them both when he reaches forward and slides the tie from around Castiel's eyes. The angel blinks a few times very owlishly, then settles his darkened-blue gaze on Dean, who is dipping his finger into the cherry syrup once more. He hesitates when he gets to Cas' lips, enamored with the sight of Castiel's hooded eyes watching his finger, his lips open and waiting. When Castiel feels the hesitation he looks Dean in the eye. The man brings his finger forward and presses it to Castiel's lax lips, smudging the red syrup across his cupid's bow and the swell of his bottom lip. Castiel's tongue peeks out to taste some of the red sugar, but before he can do much more than that Dean surges forward, taking Castiel's bottom lip between his own and sucking it clean, then doing the same with the top, worrying between his teeth for fun.
Castiel only pulls away from Dean's bruising kiss when curiosity gets the best of him. He dips his own finger in the red cherry syrup and raises it to Dean's lips. Obediently, the man opens his lips, waiting for Castiel's finger to slip in. But it doesn't. Instead the angel smears the sticky red over Dean's lips. Castiel leans forward and kisses Dean's sticky-sweet lips, sucking the syrup first off of the top one, and then the bottom, making happy little sounds every moment and reveling at the feel of Dean's tongue eagerly trying to touch his own preoccupied one. He can feel Dean's breath puffing against his skin, and his body tense, taut as a bow and ready to snap.
They meet in a frenzied kiss that tastes like cherries and sugar, neither man willing to fall back onto the mattress therefore both of them rising onto their knees, pressed tight from thigh to chest. It's a struggle for dominance that is more like a dance they know very well.
It's an even fight when Cas acts like a man and not an angel, but Dean's still got him beat technique-wise - his hands sink downward and he grips Castiel's cheeks tight, rolling his hips up against him and earning himself not only a deliciously low sound of approval from Cas, but a moment of weakness with which to topple the angel over onto the bed.
A foot or a leg bumps the tray of plates causing a loud clang and an avalanch of pie-covered plates sliding onto the bed with them, but neither is willing to stop and untangle which if them is to blame and neither really cares about the sticky dessert clinging to not only the sheets but their skin as they roll back and forth, fighting for dominance again and again in a familiar sprawl. Dean does chuckle as Cas makes a choked-off noise when a piece of wet, sticky dessert squelches under his back.
But Cas overcomes the bizarreness of it, long since having learned that humans do love to make a mess.
In the end, Cas lets Dean have his way, since this was meant to be his apology after all. He rolls onto his back, bringing Dean with him, making sure the man lands heavily on top of him, and he rakes his nails over the smooth skin of his back.
Dean curses lowly against the skin of Castiel's throat, but Cas knows Dean isn't fragile. He grabs at his body maybe a little too hard, but he knows Dean will wear the bruises with pride.
They shimmy out of their boxers in record time, flinging them away blindly.
Dean's lips trail across his skin, finding sticky streaks of sugary pie-filling and cream and driving Castiel crazy with his meandering path of sucking-kisses and random moments of acute focus on one spot or another, from his neck, to his chest to his navel and that little divot by his hipbone. Which a now very frustrated Castiel finds to be far too close to the throbbing center of his lust to be receiving all that attention. It only takes one wicked smirk as those green eyes flash up to his for Cas to realize he's being toyed with.
But despite how literally delicious the foreplay is, Dean's been waiting all day for this and he needs it, bad. He slips his fingers downward and feels that Castiel is slick.
He is still ready, from earlier. Maybe not as much as is needed, but he is an angel, so he merely makes it so with a thought. He figures he owes Dean that much, since the man can barely hang on as it is. Of course he has no intention of making a habit of such a thing and Dean knows it. But for today, he can give Dean the special treat of not making him wait any longer than he already has.
Dean is hesitant at first, which is very adorably chivalrous, but entirely unnecessary. Castiel smiles at him, and it's honest and private and Dean feels his heart do something very uncharacteristic of him in his chest. Mercifully, Castiel merely nudges him forward, just as impatient as Dean, and doesn't draw the sincere little moment out.
When they finally join together, Dean sinking in shakily, using every last tendril of will to hold out, he whispers a litany of cusses and worship against Casiel's ear. The angel has come to love that sound - it's rough, coarsely beautiful and totally human in a very Dean way.
As they move together everything else seems to disappear. Their stamina is buckled by the long anticipation, but it feels perfect regardless and Castiel clutches to the sweaty, sticky man above him with everything he's got. Castiel feels like all of the sensation may overload him - it's so frantic, the way Dean tastes at his skin, his hips pistoning like he doesn't have a single care to make it last. And he doesn't. He reaches between them, bringing Castiel off roughly, knowing how the angel likes to be surprised by how much he can feel all at once. When Castiel comes he does what he always does (when he can) and grabs Dean's head between his hands, covering his ears just in case his true voice breaks through in the waves wracking his body. He grunts and calls Dean's name and shakes, hard, feeling his body clench around the man.
Dean cusses, forces himself to keep his eyes open so that he can watch Castiel, and just before he can't take anymore he slips out, painting Cas' chest along with the litter of colorful berry, syrup and chocolate smudges over his pale skin.
Castiel watches, unable to blink for fear of missing even a second of it.
When Dean is spent he falls forward onto his elbows, his body pressed to Castiel's from the collarbone down. Castiel lets his hands rest on Dean's sides so that he can feel the man heaving air - evidence of a job well done. Dean's head falls to his own forearm, leaving his throat and chin in perfect kissing location for Castiel, who chuckles as he leans to meet Dean's skin with his lips.
"What?" Dean asks, prompted by the chuckle.
"Mm," Castiel replies, all smiles as he sucks at Dean's neck, "apple, and cinnamon."
Dean laughs, finally letting himself collapse onto Castiel, who only laughs further. He traces out the raised red scrapes he's left on Dean's back with the pads of his fingertips.
When Dean can breathe again and the stickiness between their bodies has become a little more than noticeable, Dean rolls off of Castiel with an appreciative sigh. He looks over Castiel's body - completely wrecked, flushed and painted with every flavor they've got, including Dean's own. His smirk is very satisfied indeed. He chuckles as Castiel begins to grimace at the mess.
He kisses a spot of cherry from the angel's collarbone.
"So," Dean starts cheekily, "which one's your favorite?"
Castiel follows his gaze down to his own torso, and the bedsheets littered in syrup and crusts and plates all around them. He thinks for a long moment, really considering his answer before saying difinitively, "The pumpkin."
Dean snorts incredulously. "What? Really? Why?"
"It tastes like you."
"Oh shit, sorry, did I get some in it-"
"Not quite that literally, Dean," Cas says sharply.
Dean smirks, "Never know. You caused quite a fireworks show..." Dean waggles his eyebrows at Cas and the angel cannot help but smile. Dean leans back against the pillow and says, "Huh, pumpkin. Never been a big pumpkin man myself. I woulda thought you'd say... apple, or cherry."
"Cherry is too sweet," Castiel tells him - maybe he gets Dean's joke, maybe he doesn't. Dean'll never know.
That Cas, he's a man of mysteries.
Cas continues, "Apple is too straight forward. It's not really you."
"You sayin' I aint even honest in fruit form?" Dean jokes, not really taking the insinuation to heart.
At that, Cas smiles. "Pumpkin makes the most sense for you. Though I will say," he starts lowly, "sometimes you can be a real key lime."
Dean grimaces and nudges him roughly. "Ok, so why am I pumpkin?"
Castiel considers for another long moment, which makes Dean smile because really, what the fuck is this conversation anyway?
"Pumpkin is fulfilling," Cas explains. "Not too heavy, but more filling than most pastry. It is... substantial. Not as sweet. It has... spice."
"You think I'm spicy huh?"
"Dean, I'm trying to draw a sincere metaphorical correlation between you and a dessert, can you please take this a little more seriously?"
Dean merely squints at him.
"You are pumpkin because... there is no other pie like pumpkin pie. It doesn't need all the syrup and the sugar and the berries. It comes as-is. And hot or cold, it's the best choice."
Dean stares at him, feeling utterly uncomfortable but in an oddly nice way. Dean's never felt so bizarrely flattered. He isn't sure when he lost control of this sugar+fucking=good moment and it got peripherally, abstractly intimate...
Guess that's just a chance you take with Castiel.
Dean finds he's really, really, ok with that.
Castiel tops it all off with a shrug and a humble, "In my opinion, that is."
Dean wants to offer him some extended, sweet metaphor in return but, he never was good at that kind of thing. So instead he reaches over, grabs ahold of Castiel's chin, turns his face toward his own, and kisses him like a man who isn't covered in sugar and crumbs and debauchery and therefore ridiculous, but who is truly in love.
And if Cas melts into that kiss like he's gearing up for round two, all the better. They're in for one hell of a shower anyway.