Ok winpala ficlet I wanna read.
Dean and human!Impala trash talking about car part while Sam is mortified. Because he's Impala-shaped at the moment.
Human!Baby x Dean x Sampala and car part dirty talking? Your mind, mootie, I can't!
This can't be happening, this isn't happening. It's a dream, a fucked up, insane dream.
Baby, in her well-fitted leathers and sturdy boots, sprawled on his hood (chest?) while his brother was standing with his soft body braced against his side door (my side), arms folded comfortably and settled on top of his roof (definitely head).
He sensed more than saw that they were gazing at each other, bodies turned towards one another with a magnetic draw Dean had always had for him and well…another something, which was now a someone. And he was now the something.
Weathered fingers ghosted in languid drags across his front window (face), and his undercarriage (abdomen) shivered.
"Baby." Sam growled a warning, the effects of which crackled in his speakers (ugh, throat).
"You look so pretty like this, Sam." She purred, a low timber like whiskey and smoke.
Something liquid, sweet, and tangy heated in his tank (belly). What?
"Baby would know best, Sammy, but I have to agree. Your sleek lines, your grill, your rims. God, I would love to run my tongue along them, taste that metal and summer heat."
"What. The. Fuck. Dean." Sam pulsed out every syllable, his engine (heart, I mean heart) stuttering. "I'm not a car."
"Yes, you are, Sam. You're a car, my Impala, my Baby. In fact, you're our Baby. Right, Baby?"
"Right." Baby replied, a cheerful tease in her voice. "You're a 1967 Chevy Impala, from your chassis to your interior. You have to accept this, Sam, but don't worry, we'll help you, darlin'. I've accepted being a car all my life; I know exactly how to make you feel every bit of what you are." And in that moment, her fingers wrapped around his windshield wipers (uh, no. Ears? My hair?), the thumb dragging against rubber (skin, skin, skin) and tugging a little. Sam felt the needles on his dashboard go wild, but he stubbornly ignored it.
Dean shifted, and all of a sudden, Sam could tell how utterly aroused his brother was, his hard-on catching on his door handle (I don't even know what that represents) as Dean started to grind.
"Feel that, Sammy? Feel how your make and model really gets me going, makes something feral and hot rise in my belly. Goddamn, I want to hump your tires, I need to huff your vinyl seats, paint your steering wheel in my juices, stroke the walls of your trunk until you're revving and begging for release. You should feel every inch of what it means to be my Baby, fuck, just like this." Dean panted, continuing to frot the bulge straining in his jeans against the bevel of Sam's handle and keyhole, sending a million confusing sensations all through Sam's body.
Baby had one of his wipers fully fisted now, jerking it like a dick. He hadn't noticed when dry friction was replaced with slick saliva. "I'm going to rub my hands along your dashboard, lick my way inside your tank to taste inside you, fondle and rub your bumper just like you would an ass, tug on your seatbelts so you can feel the strain of them. I'm going to touch and know you the only way a fellow vehicle can."
Sam felt something pop and crackle inside him, and he willed the dial of his radio to its lowest setting so neither of them could hear the moan he let out at the car-related filth they spewed. The image of fully embracing being the Impala and being helpless to their passion-fueled ministrations didn't seem so bad when they talked like that.
"No one is fucking my tailpipe." Sam declared.
Baby let go of his wiper and slid off his hood, gravel crunching under her boots as she strode to Sam's back end. She patted his bumper with full, thuddy hands. "Trust me, there are plenty of other places to fuck and thrust into that feel just as, if not more, amazing. I intend to teach you boys every one of them."
"Oh fuck, Baby." Dean moaned. "See, Sammy? We gotchu. You should just enjoy the ride."
'Enjoy the ride' indeed. Sam snorted. But he had to admit, as Baby's sturdy hands rubbed his tail lights, fingering the ridges at the edges there, he couldn't wait for her to help him discover all the parts of his new anatomy.
