Title: Sensuous Life
Author: kbk
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Sam/Jess (and if you want to see Wincest, it's there. but only if you want to.)
Rating: NC-17 for het!
Notes: Wikipedia tells me: "In Buddhism, the Paramitas refer to the perfection or culmination of certain practices. These practices are cultivated by Bodhisattvas for crossing from sensuous life (Samsara) to Enlightenment (Nirvana)." The Six Perfections used come from Mahayana Buddhism, as listed in the Perfection of Wisdom (Prajna-paramita) Sutra and Lotus (Saddharmapundarika) Sutra.
Notes 2: ...the hell? I have No Idea how I ended up writing Jess-fic. I'm not all that interested in Sam and not at all interested in Sam's Massive Trauma, and that's really all Jess is in canon: a cypher through which Sam's life is changed. And Yet, my brain insisted, so here it is.
Notes 3: For svmadelyn's Cuff 'Em, Vamp 'Em, or Just Make 'Em Come Already Kink and Cliche Multi-Fandom Challenge. I at least touched on all of my prompts, which were: 1) Kink: Fisting 2) Kink: Weapons kink 3) Cliche: A gets a boyfriend; up until then, B hadn't realised A swung that way. Yeeeeaaaaaahhhh, baby. Also, mentions of masturbation and piercings and... things.

generosity

Jessica steps out of the Student Services office, drained after a long afternoon of crappy admin work that she isn't even getting paid for, and walks straight into a tall shaggy-haired boy she vaguely recognizes. He helps her pick up her books, and as they sort out their respective bits of paper, she sees the scars on his wrist.

"You know, there's a self-injury support group that meets... on Thursdays, I think," she says, without even thinking about it, simply wanting to help.

He blinks at her, and suddenly she wants to drop through the ground with embarrassment, because who does she think she is to comment like that? It must show on her face, because he smiles a little and tells her it's OK.

She's surprised by how attractive he is, by the way she just wants to hold him close and fix whatever's broken inside him, and she watches him nod and walk away with a tinge of regret.

It hits her, twenty minutes later, where she's seen him before; her comparative religion class did a ritual outside the Department of Religious Studies just before they finished the section on Wicca, and he stopped in passing - not to look, but to listen. Jess had felt intensely self-conscious and a little ridiculous, and it had been a relief to have one less pair of eyes on her.

Now, she thinks, she wouldn't mind him looking at her. She wouldn't mind him seeing her, not in the slightest. She certainly wants to see him again. She'll keep her eyes open.

morality

Jess is a good girl, more or less. As a teenager, she went to church most weekends and didn't worry her parents much, and she lost her virginity on prom night to a boy who didn't know much more about sex than she did. Then she went to college and found herself with a roommate named Rachel who talked about empowering women by acknowledging female sexuality and sensuality, put a poster in their window which exclaimed (in neon pink on black) "Women Wank!" and stacked "sex-positive literature" next to her knee-high boots.

Jess comes home from her fourth date with Sam Winchester practically floating on air - he's so sweet! and he gave her flowers! again! - and, bubbling over with excitement, tells Rachel all about it. Rachel grins and says, "He sounds all right. But on the fourth date, my girlfriend gave me a nipple-ring. It was my birthday, though."

Then there's a terribly awkward discussion which ends when Jess says, "But I thought you were normal!" and Rachel starts shrieking about hetero-normative prejudices.

Jess runs to Sam, who is surprisingly unsympathetic until she bursts into tears. "What's normal, anyway?" he asks gently as he strokes her hair, and then huffs out something that might be a laugh. She makes a decision, and has sex with him for the first time that night. It's not terrible.

The next morning, Jess apologises to Rachel, admires her nipple-ring, and asks if any of the erotica stack has guys in it. She came to college to learn, after all.

patience

For her birthday, Sam gives her a card, some chocolates, and a voucher for the sexual act of her choice. It makes her blush, because she knows what she's going to ask for but she doesn't think Sam's even heard of it.

She doesn't know why it's so exciting to her (and thinks perhaps she doesn't want to know, because it's kinda disgusting) but it is. Sam seems to understand that, when she names the act, because he just nods and asks if she has the supplies they'll need.

She does.

He takes two fingers easily - they've done this much before, and she's watched him do it with his own fingers, longer and thicker than hers - and only tenses a little for the third.

"Breathe, Sam," she tells him, and watches his back ripple. He smiles over his shoulder at her, and she smiles back; at the end of his next inhalation, she pushes all four fingers in to the second knuckle, then stops.

She waits, with her fingers squashed uncomfortably inside her boyfriend's ass, and slowly counts off her breaths. She drizzles more lube over her knuckles, and apologises to Sam when the cold makes him jump.

Sam's cell rings, and he raises himself to his elbows to reach for it, but Jess pushes her hand forward, inexorably, and tucks her thumb into her palm so the tip of it is at his entrance.

"Wait," he gasps, sliding back down, and she does. They have plenty of time.

vigour

For Sam's birthday, Jess gives him a card, a CD, and a voucher for the sexual act of his choice. Actually, it's the same voucher he gave her, because his calligraphy is beautiful (though his handwriting is worse than hers). He doesn't blush, but gives her a long, slow look of appraisal that makes her heat all over.

He braids her hair back and ties her wrists in front of her with a strip of leather. He doesn't tell her what he wants, doesn't talk at all, and it's odd, unnerving, unlike him. But then he smiles at her, just a little, and she relaxes and lets him move her.

He carries her from the bedroom to the kitchen and back again, seeming indecisive, but her legs are around his waist and his cock rubs against her with every step.

Sam's cell rings, but they ignore it, with her face hidden against his chest (her lips on his skin, her teeth on his salt-sweet skin) and his hands cupping her ass.

Finally, he stops wandering. He holds her up against the wall, and fucks her so hard she worries that the condom might break. But she moves into every thrust, and screams out her orgasm with no care to the neighbors. It's a celebration, after all.

contemplation

Jess finds the knife while Sam is at the library pulling an all-nighter to perfect an essay. It's curvaceous and razor sharp, and she doubts yet again Sam's denials of self-harm and flimsy stories about the origins of all those scars. Why else would her gentle giant own such a thing? Why else would he try so hard to hide it?

She twists it from side to side, and watches the light glint off it and bounce on the walls. Gorgeous, she thinks. Perhaps not the kind of beauty most people appreciate, but she does, and presumably so does Sam. She'd probably appreciate it more if it were Sam holding the blade, which seems more fitted to his huge hands than her own frail ones.

She kisses the flat of the blade, and slides her free hand inside her panties. She's slick with arousal, and it probably has more to do with the thought of Sam's hands and what they can do, have done to her, but the blade is, oh, so pretty and she trails the edge across her skin so delicately it doesn't leave a mark.

Jess shivers. Oh, if Sam were doing this, if Sam were to tie her again and do this, or let her do this to him... He'd let her cut him, she thinks, and shakes so hard she has to drop the knife.

Afterwards, she carefully replaces the knife where she found it. Maybe for Christmas, she tells herself.

insight

It's not the first time this week that Jess has woken to an empty bed, but she hears a thump in the next room and it's frankly worrying, so she pulls herself from her comfortable sprawl and goes in search of Sam.

She flicks on the light, and for an instant, the two men blinking at her are both strangers. Then the taller resolves himself into her boyfriend, and introduces his brother, who is looking at her in a way that makes her wish she'd put on some clothes. An old T-shirt and girlie boxers might be perfectly acceptable sleeping attire, but she doesn't like going bra-less in public.

But this isn't public; this is her home, and he's practically family, and somehow she gets the feeling Dean's flirting is just an automatic reaction to an attractive person. She glances at her boyfriend, maybe hoping he'll rescue her (though she'd never admit it, because Jess is a modern woman and can take perfectly good care of herself.) Sam rolls his eyes at her from behind Dean's back, his mouth down-turned and his body still tense.

Jess has to wonder what's going on, what's turning her Sam (and for a year he's been only hers in all that matters) into someone else's Sam (who is holding her but his focus is on Dean). Whatever it is, she thinks, it probably isn't good.