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They're eating pie in a little diner. It was Dean's third attempt to get Cas to like pie, but despite being a little messier than the previous two, today's marionberry was little more tempting to Cas than the pecan or the peach had been. Perhaps Cas was simply not a "sweet tooth" like Dean or his incorrigible brother Garbriel.

If the noises coming from Dean were an accurate testimony, than it was certainly not due to any insufficiency of the pie in front of him. Truth be told, the pie could hardly stand a chance; Dean was the stimulus garnering the majority of his senses from the moment his face lit up as his favorite form of dessert was plopped in front of him on an unassuming white platter with a tiny chip in the edge to the moment he licked his plush lips clean and proceeded to close them around each sticky finger tip with a blissful sigh and closed eyes, relishing the last tastes of the pie off of his own skin. 

Heat burned unforgivingly into Castiel's gut as the current image provoked other images of Dean and his lips and those little ecstatic sighs and he sat up, eyes flashing with purpose. He brushed his finger through his own piece of pie with deliberation, glancing at the glob sticking to it before fixing his gaze on Dean and holding the finger out between them.

"Dean," his voice graveled, "My fingers are also quite dirty, why don't you clean them as well?"

Six or so other patrons filled a quarter of the room, leaving two thirds of the booths empty, and yet it was still enough people for Dean's eyes to burst open and his cheeks to blush, making his freckles stand out in a way that birthed warm curls in Cas's chest. 

"Excuse me, what?" Dean asked, dropping his voice and leaning forward towards Castiel.

The corner of Cas's mouth raised, but his voice lost none of the original authority as he repeated his question--this time, a command.

"My finger. Lick it clean."

Dean fidgeted almost completely out of his seat. He looked out the window before he could turn back and answer Cas.

"Are you crazy? Here?! At a diner? With all these people??"

"Yes." Castiel's reply was swift and uncompromising, his eyes never leaving Dean's as his chest swelled and his eyebrow cocked--daring Dean to refuse him.

Dean eyes flitted around the room once more.

"Dean," Castiel's voice grew lower still, "I'm waiting."

Dean's lips closed around his finger without hesitation after the last two words. The last time he made Cas wait he was punished later: with Cas holding his wrists as his mouth vindictively lavished everywhere but his cock. He came without even being touched that night, just Castiel finally telling him to do so pushing him over the edge after an eternity of searing fire rushing through his veins. 

Cas grinned wolfishly as he felt Dean diligently suck and wrap his tongue around his finger, making sure to complete his task thoroughly even as his blush deepened at any possible audience.

Cas leaned in, sidling his mouth by Dean's ear to whisper roughly.

"Good boy," he praised, grazing Dean's earlobe with his teeth and earning a pleased shudder in return.

"Maybe when we get back home, I'll let you put those pretty little lips of yours on something else."

Dean's breath hitched before he pulled Castiel's finger out of his mouth and slowly backed away, green eyes glazed over with hunger and anticipated pleasure.

"Check please," Dean stammered out to the waitress.