Title: Joy Ride
Author: vaderina
Rating: NC-17
Genre and/or Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: None that I can think of...
Warnings: imapla!love - literally
Word Count: ~2500
Summary: After a witch turns Dean into his most beloved thing, Castiel must combine Dean's top three loves to turn him back.
A/N: I am so ashamed of myself for writing this. First ever NC-17 rating and this comes out? Someone shoot me.


The last thing Dean remembered before everything exploded in a white light was ganking the bitch. Witches were still something he hated with a vengeance. They were always fucking with things that are none of their business. This particular one was (emphasis on the was) one who thought she could fuck around with people and the things they love. Well, she could rot in hell from now on. Bitch.


As these thoughts flitted through his mind, Dean slowly regained consciousness. Something wasn't right though. He tried to open his eyes, yet he couldn't. Tried to move his arms. Nothing seemed to respond. He struggled to do something, anything to attract attention but nothing worked. He had no eyes, no legs, no arms, no voice, nothing. Once the initial panic subsided, he realised that while he had no eyes, he could still see. Though it wasn't sight as such. He was aware of his surroundings. Which was wrong. He was outside. By the window of their last motel room. He could see that (for the sake of argument, he termed it sight) the curtains were open, Sam was sitting with his laptop typing furiously away. Another figure shifted in the room. It was too dark to identify it though. Yet at the same time as seeing this, Dean could also see behind him. The empty street with the sad looking diner on the opposite side. He could also hear things. Just normal outdoor noises, nothing out of the ordinary. But he still had no voice or limbs. Deciding to try and be productive, he began concentrating on where his arms and legs should be. The more he though, the more he could almost feel them. Everything felt rigid and somewhat fixed. He had no control over his almost limbs, something was missing. And he also felt slightly what he could only describe as hunger and thirst mixed together. Suddenly it dawned on him what that witch had done. And he couldn't decide to laugh or cry. He was outside, by the motel window, unable to move or talk and his 'stomach' was slightly empty. They went after the witch on foot as the house she was hiding in was just round the block and had no car space. So they left his beloved Impala where it was parked, outside their motel room and he knew he needed to fill her up before they hit the road again. Oh sweet Jesus, he was the Impala!


This revelation was swiftly followed by the motel room door opening and Sam appearing, trailed by a frowning Cas. The next thing he knew, he was being opened up and sat in. And not in a sexual way either. The two men in him (huh, he never thought he'd ever get to say that) weighed him down, but in a nice way. Almost like when you get a massage and the masseur leans their weight on your back. Sam was in the driver's seat while Cas rode (still no pun intended) shotgun.


"The witch worked in threes. So it stands to reason that if we find the three things Dean loves the most, we will get him back." Cas looked at Sam as he explained (was it weird that Dean could see into himself too?).


"Yeah, but what are the three things? I mean, the Impala? Pie? Women? Sex?" Sam was getting frustrated and fumbled the keys into ignition. Dean felt better for it, if only Sam would turn the keys now and he could get moving.


"He also loves you. And greasy foods." Cas carried on the list. "We just need to combine the three correct items. He likes porn. And Dr. Sexy MD too."


Sam turned the keys and the Impala purred to life. Dean sighed along with it as his borrowed body began to respond and warm up.


"There's too much there Cas! And I don't know how to combine any of those. Well, women and pie...but the witch's victims were all transformed into something they loved too. I haven't seen a Dean shaped pie anywhere, nor a woman claiming to be Dean." Sam raised his voice towards the end of his tirade and slammed his foot onto the gas pedal. Dean gasped as everything in him lurched in protest and the motor stalled with a cough. It was like being on the receiving end of the Heimlich manoeuvre, a sudden jolt and copious amounts of coughing. He was still coughing when Sam turned the keys again, the motor roaring to life with his coughing. His brother looked puzzled but just shrugged and turned the radio on. Both Cas and Sam jumped, Sam hitting his head on the roof "“ which hurt like he had just head-butted a brick wall "“ as instead of the local radio station they heard violent coughing interspersed with choice profanities. The angel and human exchanged looks before Sam hesitantly asked "Dean?"


"Yeah." Dean smiled (the motor purred a little louder) as he was finally able to talk.


"Shit. Dean! I'm so sorry. Oh god... sorry Cas "“ I'm sitting in you!" Sam freaked.


"Well, that's new Sammy, enjoy it while it lasts." Dean laughed.


"Dean." Cas greeted the transformed Winchester.


"Hey Cas, nice for you to pop in, um, by...whatever." if Dean could have blushed, he would have. Sam didn't need to quite know about his extra curricular non-apocalyptic activities with Cas just yet.


"Dean, we need to know the two other things you love the most. Would you be kind enough to tell us what they are so we could get you back to your original form?" Cas continued, the innuendo lost on him. The only response to his question was static.


"Dean?" Sam warily prompted. "It would be really good if you didn't play guessing games now to try and piss me off."


"Fuck the hell spawn! It can go fuck a chicken while turned inside out." Dean shouted, breaking the static.


"Uh, Dean?"


"I can't say it! Fucking fuck fuckity FUCK!" Sam's ears rang with the volume of the swearing.


"Perhaps we could try yes/no responses." Cas volunteered, "Dean, is one of them pie?"




"Well, that idea seems shot to shit too." Sam sighed, resting his head on the steering wheel.


"Sammy, uh, could you please, you know, get your head off me?" Dean ventured.


"Shit, sorry man, sorry." Sam sat up.


"And Sammy, could you please..."Dean faltered here, going silent.


"Do what Dean?"


"You think you could let Cas drive?" Dean's voice sounded weird, slightly higher than normal. Nervous even.


"Cas drive? Dean, you serious? Can he even drive?" Sam looked incredulous.


"Just, please?" Dean was once more glad his car didn't change colour so he couldn't blush.


"OK, fine, whatever." Sam threw his hands up and got out to swap places with Cas. "So, where to?" he asked once back in the car. He tried his hardest not to think of it as Dean. Somehow, thinking of being in Dean made his queasy.


"Can we please just go for a drive?" Dean asked. Without a word, Cas pulled out (Dean could hardly stifle a laugh) and they were on the road. Dean always knew he loved driving, but this? This was so much better. He could feel his wheels turning along the tarmac, pushing them forward. His well oiled parts moving in sync, the wind streaming past his sleek body. It was glorious. And Cas? He handled him with such care and respect, caressing the steering wheel and his hands closing firmly yet softly round the gear stick, just as he liked it. If he were in his own body, he'd be definitely hard from such touches. Dean purred in satisfaction, racing down the long stretch of road. Just round the corner, he saw a cute red little Porsche. He grinned to himself as he raced after her. Oh he so could do that, cute little ass and all. Then his brain caught up with him. He was a car and he was thinking about getting jiggy with another car. And a red sporty Porsche at that. That was like the sleaziest hooker on the street corner! A sensible Toyota Prius went by him. That was such a Sammy car. Sam glanced at Cas but he took no notice of it. Suddenly, the howl of an Audi TT's protesting motor pulled out from behind him, trying to go past him. Cas shifted him up a gear, allowing him to toy with the contestant. The Audi was exactly the kind of thing Zach the douche-bag and co would drive or be. Silver, professional and authoritative looking, but just one of the many, common bossy little annoying shits. Cas shifted gears again, his fingers stroking the length of the gear stick and Dean roared ahead, leaving the pushy little piece of scrap metal behind. Sam chuckled a little and cast Cas a glance. Dean almost asked what, but then he zoned in on a battered looking Mustang. It was a dark blue, with a little bit of rust, chugging along steadily, precisely on the speed limit. Dean was about to go past, but something made him stop short, slow down and trail it for a little while. Somehow, it struck a chord with him. It was old, yet still gave off the air of quiet authority, commanding the road with exact precision despite the wear and tear of daily use and abuse. It clicked, why Dean was so drawn to it. It was Cas. If he was the Impala, then this old little Mustang was his Cas. And well, he knew that while his eyes were first drawn to the red Porsche, they would always find their way back to the Mustang because even if at first the Porsche looked exciting and enticing, the Mustang had a quality about it that was just irresistible. Plus, looks could be deceptive when it came to the bedroom. The Porsche could be vanilla while the Mustang...huh, Cas was certainly one for experimenting. That one time...Sam cleared his throat.


"Dean?" his voice held a bit of mild panic. "Dean! The radio is still on! We can hear you."




"You heard...what?"


"Everything! More than I ever need to know." Sam was bright red and desperately not looking at either the car or Cas.


"Oh." Dean said softly.




"Um, well, now you know?" Dean ventured.


"I didn't really want to though."




"But, if that's what makes you happy, then OK."




"Yeah. Just, no more information please. Not even with car analogies."


"Thank you." Cas suddenly said, gazing at Sam.


"For what?"


"For not 'flipping' as Dean put it once." Cas said, eyes returning to the road and pulling into the motel parking lot, "And Dean, thank you too." he added softly, his hands gently running along the steering wheel and the gear stick. Dean let the motor purr once more before it was shut off, voice gone with it. As his doors opened, Cas spoke quietly to him.


"I'll be back later, I have an idea." he said before his doors were shut and his angel and brother left him alone again. He saw them go into the motel room and felt jealous. He wanted to be in that motel room too. And with his previous handling from Cas and his thoughts, Sammy might want to be in another room at the other end of the motel. However, after a couple of minutes Cas left the motel room. On foot. Normally, he'd just Angel-Airway himself away. Dean was about to get his hopes up as Cas approached him. And walked straight by. But not without trailing his hand along the entire length of his long body with the lightest and most teasing of touches. Dean couldn't quite catch sight of his face, but he could have sworn the angel was smirking. He trailed his path as the angel left him standing alone, jealousy once more building up in him as the angel entered the diner. Damn it he wanted pie and the almost hungry feeling of a half empty petrol tank wasn't helping things along. After an agonising few more minutes, Cas appeared out of the diner carrying a box. Dean wanted to close his eyes to try and eliminate his view as Cas walked past with mouthwatering food. As he focussed on his interior, he felt a hand run back up along him, stopping at the driver's door. It opened and the welcome weight of Castiel settled in the seat. The box smelling of freshly baked apple pie was placed on the shotgun seat.


"Hello Dean." Castiel's voice was pitched low and intimate. The keys slid into the ignition smoothly, like Cas had done this all his life. The Impala sighed into life as Cas eased it onto the road at a comfortable pace. There was no rush, Castiel was silent and even though he left the radio on in case Dean wanted to say something, a comfortable silence filled the car mixing well with the smell of the pie and Cas' weight. They cruised down the highway, turning off at random junctions and the roads they took became smaller and more deserted. Dean was happy, Castiel seemed content, his touches as gentle as before and just as teasing. It kept Dean on the edge but on a very good edge. It felt like the world's best foreplay though he couldn't quite balance over that edge and go tumbling into bliss. He somehow needed more. He needed Cas to find similar pleasures too. Cas seemed to have an idea though. After 10 minutes on a deserted back road through some forgotten woods, Cas pulled them over into a covered lay-by and let the engine idle. His hands caressed the steering wheel before dropping to the gear stick, fondling it like a long lost lover. Dean welcomed the touch, sighing as Cas' long fingers closed round the top of his gear stick.


"I know what you want Dean." Cas broke the silence, his hands slowing teasingly soft up and down path. "And I will give it to you."


"Cas." the engine stuttered along with Dean's voice breaking over the radio. Cas smiled as he lowered himself, bestowing a kiss on top of the gear stick while his hands wrapped around its base. With another small smile Cas opened his mouth and let his lips glide over to smooth surface with a satisfied moan. Dean whimpered at the sensation of the warm wetness covering him. He was left subject to Cas' ministrations, tongue slipping round the tip, savouring the new taste and texture under it. It felt like the worlds most perfect bondage. Dean was at Castiel's complete mercy, unable to move, shift into a better position while Castiel bobbed his head. Finally, Dean found his voice.


"Cas..."he groaned along with the engine, "I need more. I want you."


Cas slowly pulled himself up with a final suck, leaving the stick wet and glistening. His eyes were dark and a mischievous smile played on his lips.


"As you wish Dean." his voice was husky and low. Reaching for his clothes, he slowly started stripping, letting them drop into the back seat until he was only wearing his boxers. There, he stopped and reached for the box on the shotgun seat that Dean had forgotten about and opened it. A whole pie sat in it, steaming, crust golden and crumbling round the edges while the middle bulged with filling. Whipped cream ran circles round the bulge and dollops of vanilla ice-cream were melting into little puddles round the pie. Dean whined at the sight, desire for Cas and the pie combining to drive him crazy. He watched as Cas dug a finger into the cream, coating it with the white substance before slowly bringing it to his mouth. He sucked on his finger, eyes closed in unadulterated bliss as the sweet cream covered his tongue. His eyes opened, dark pools of unfocussed inky blue-black.


"Please Cas. Don't tease." Dean gasped. A lazy smile was the only response he got as Cas knelt up and pushed down his boxers over his bulging erection. As it sprang free from the cotton confines, Dean swallowed audibly. Castiel reached back to rummage in his coat which was hung from the back of the seat and produced a small tube of lube.


"Is this what you want Dean?" he asked. Dean swallowed again, and realised that nodding wasn't going to work in this situation.


"Yeah Cas. Exactly what I want." he panted.


Cas' eyes sparkled with lust as he let a trickle of the cool clear fluid run down his palm. Once it covered his hand, he flipped to lid shut and chucked it carelessly into the back. He let his slick palm slowly drift down towards his hard cock, dragging a palm over the head before lazily closing fingers around the shaft. His eyes slid shut in pleasure and his head tilted back, a breathy moan escaping through his parted lips. Dean could only watch from his prison body as the angel gave himself a few leisurely strokes, spreading the beading precome, mixing it with the lube on his stiff member. Once he seemed satisfied that it was slick enough, on a down stroke he didn't stop at the base, but rather carried on over his balls, running his long slick fingers along the sensitive skin, rolling them between them before cupping them in his palm. His fingers migrated lower, rubbing the small sweet spot between his puckered hole and balls. Small breathless pants and half words slipped from his mouth. Dean just watched him wordlessly, thanking everything and nothing for his ability to see everything. From the way Castiel's eyes scrunched up the same time a finger ran teasing rings round his hole to the way rivulets of sweat ran down his chest. Dean really wanted to lick a path up the smooth chest, spending time lavishing his lover's nipples with attention from his tongue before moving further up to suckle on the tender skin between his neck and shoulder only to carry on up his neck before finally settling on his pink mouth, open and just begging to be nipped and sucked.


However, these thoughts were quickly wiped from his mind as he watched the finger which had been just teasing until now slowly breach the muscles, and disappear into Castiel. His breath hitched at the intrusion, and his hand stilled. The other hand slowly moved up his chest to play with his nipples to distract himself from the discomfort of his finger. It seemed to work. As he slowly circled, pinched and sometimes ran a blunted nail over the pink nubs, his finger pulled out and pushed back in, further than before. He repeated this slowly at first, then faster, picking up speed and working out a rhythm that elicited throaty gasps. Dean wanted to touch him, wanted to be able to make him not only moan, but to scream, make him cry out his name, acknowledge him as he brought him to climax. But as it was, he could only watch the show Cas put on for him, watch as a second finger joined the first and began scissoring, stretching and occasionally going in deep enough to hit the spot in Castiel that drew out a growl from him. His fingers began to move faster, bolder as his cock leaked, flushed red with arousal. Dean could see the way his hole held tightly onto his fingers, clenched round them when a third pushed in and Cas rolled his hips involuntarily, seeking friction to heighten his pleasure. Slowly, Cas began to not only fuck himself with his fingers, but move his hips, thrusting down against his fingers every time his hand pushed forcibly up. His movements became more forceful, less refined as he drew closer to the end. Dean groaned at the sight and Castiel's eyes snapped open and slowed down his hands until they finally stopped. His fingers were still deep in him, hips jerking a few times before he was fully in control of himself again.


"You want me Dean?" he asked, voice broken.


"Yes Cas." Dean's voice wasn't a lot better, shaking with desire.


"Tell me what you want."


"I want to fuck you. Want you to ride me until you scream for me. Until you lose control and don't even know your own name. I want you to come so hard, you won't be able to think until way after you've come."


A smile passed over Castiel's face and his eyelids fluttered closed as he withdrew his fingers from himself far too slowly to be anything but a teasing taster for what was to come. His hand made quick work of making sure the gear-stick was well and truly slick with spit, lube and precome before he raised himself up and over it.


"As you wish." he ground out, slowly descending down onto it, stretching himself wider than his fingers could. Dean felt it press into the angel, warm and tight with just enough amount of lube to make it slide in with perfect friction. The sigh from the angel changed to an open mouthed groan as he sank further down, brushing it against his prostate. Tensing his thighs, he pushed up, pulling almost entirely off before sliding back down with a little more ease again. Cas repeated this a few more times, growing bolder and louder with each thrust. His hands came up to rest on the dash board and use it as more leverage, fingers curling into a harsh grip as they would on Dean's chest when he was in his human form. Dean couldn't find it in himself to even be bothered about the lube hand prints left behind. He wanted to move, to thrust up into the angel, push deeper, but his borrowed body prevented him. Instead, all he could do was roar with the engine, the whole car vibrating and pulling a strangled moan deep from Castiel's chest as the gear stick vibrated deep in him against his prostate. The angel was now bouncing on him with wild abandon, a hand leaving the dashboard to work his cock. Dean knew they wouldn't last a lot longer, could feel the angel clamping tighter around him, each thrust becoming less about grace and finesse, more about achieving the ultimate pleasure. With a final, brutal push down that took Dean deeper into Cas than before, Cas broke, letting his head fall back, screaming Dean's name to the skies as he came the same time as Dean's world went white with pleasure.


When Dean's vision returned, he was wedge between the two front seats, a leg in each foot well, softening cock still balls deep in the angel slumped against him. He smiled and curled his newly returned arms round Castiel's heaving chest, ignoring the sticky white mess almost gluing them together. Slowly returning to the world of the living, Cas turned his head towards Dean with a small blissed out smile and captured his lips in a lazy kiss tongues giving a softer and more gentle replay of what had just happened between Cas and the Deanpala.


"Welcome back." he whispered once they broke apart. Leaning forwards, a shiver passed through them both as Dean's still sensitive cock slid out of the angel's loose body. However, it did not deter the angel from retrieving the now cold pie with a grin and turning to his human.


"The Impala, sex and pie. You are incorrigible, Winchester."


"Actually, that's not quite right." Dean smiled back, admitting a piece of the delicious pastry into his mouth, sucking Cas' finger in with it, licking it clean.


"Oh? And why is that?"


"Because the pie in only a bonus. My three favourite things are the Impala, sex and most importantly, you."