That was what it was, wasn't it? A first kiss--their first kiss. Lucifer was gone, and that just left Castiel trying to make up for what he'd failed to do before. His hand pressed back across Dean's cheek, sank into his hair, and he bent right up into it, tangling his fingers deeply in place, to anchor himself there.

He didn't hang about kissing his lips, but pressed his body against Dean's, slanting his mouth against him so that he could better beg for entrance with the lash of his tongue. He was eager to melt into him, meld with him, and never break away. Anything Dean wanted. Anything to make up for what had happened with Lucifer.