AN: I'm back! This is my little continuation of Welcome To SKU. It's the second installment in this verse and follows pretty much directly after the events of the first story. That being said, you probably don't need to have read the first part to get the gist of what's going on here. I'm going to try and avoid doing too much exposition about how things have been going since the end of pledge week - I'll give an idea of what the boys have been up to, but I'm not going to spell it out.

Once again, these two defied my expectations. I figured I'd have the main sex stuff at the end, just a bit of build up in between... aaaand then Dean had other ideas. Whoops? I guess I'm not used to writing horny college students? Cuz the adults I write can generally keep it in their pants for a lot longer... So basically, this was supposed to be one chapter, and I had to break it up into two.

The second chapter is planned out, I just gotta find time to sit down and write it...

Come visit me on tumblr at jhoomwrites - I'm always up for distractions :)


It's stupid. Cas knows damn well that it's stupid. It's the type of romantic, lovey dovey nonsense he used to make fun of in high school. Yet here he is, planning a fucking two month anniversary date. The type of shit that teenagers did right before they broke up a week later.

Un-fucking-believable.

Of course, things aren't that simple. If it were merely an obnoxious gesture to show off how awesome things are, Castiel wouldn't bother. Because things are awesome and he doesn't need the validation in the form of acknowledging the ridiculously meaningless passing of a scant two months. And yes, he's ranted about this to his friends on multiple occasions as they watched yet another doe-eyed couple profess their undying love to each other in the form of stuffed teddy bears and a half dozen roses.

Castiel swore to himself that he'd never be that guy.

And here he is, being that guy.

He thanks the hostess and hangs up the phone, circling the date and time of his reservation about five times. Sighing, he throws down the pencil and tries not to sulk.

In all honestly, the date's not so much about the anniversary. He's pretty sure if he said, "Happy two month anniversary!" to Dean, all he'd get would be a fist bump and a peck on the cheek. Or possibly a raised eyebrow about how he's been counting the time.

(He hasn't, okay? It's just that he happens to know the date they first officially hooked up because it was the end of pledge week. And he just happened to remember that little tidbit as he started an essay, one that may be due on their two month anniversary. So sue him.)

But Dean, well into his junior year, is running himself ragged trying to keep up with his coursework. Even his physics and math professors - by far his favorite and easiest courses - are piling on so much work that Dean can hardly keep up. He wouldn't even sleep at night if it weren't for Cas forcing him to bed before he passed out as his desk.

So basically, Castiel justifies the sappy idea of a two month anniversary celebration with the excuse of Dean's mental health. Which, all in all, is a pretty damn good excuse.

Reservation on the books, all he has to do is bring it up to Dean. They don't see each other until that evening. Cas has a late study group on Mondays, but luckily the frat house is close to the coffee shop his classmates like to meet in. Since he'd have to pass by it on the way to his dorm, he usually stops by. More often than not, he spends the night too.

Sitting against the headboard and building up a comfy pillow fort, Cas props up his laptop and Spanish notebook. As he flips through to find his notes on the subjunctive, Cas passes by the post-it note reminding him to talk to Dean about dinner.

"Dean?"

The older boy doesn't react, keeps chewing on his pen and staring over the brim of his glasses at a textbook (and fuck - the first time he saw Dean wearing honest to god glasses, Cas pushed him against the nearest wall and blew him right then and there).

"Dean?" He waits, then tries a third time while stretching out across the bed to tap him with his foot. "Dean?"

"Mmmm?" is the only response he gets.

Sighing, Cas decides that's the best he's going to get right now. "So, uh, this Friday is our two month anniversary and I thought you'd like to go out to dinner."

"Dinner? Yeah, yeah that sounds good."

Okay, the fact that Dean hasn't called him out on the two month thing makes him think he's at best only half listening. Cas can work with that. "Okay, well... I made reservations for seven at the Charleston. I can get your suit dry cleaned if you need me too and we can... What?"

Dean has completely abandoned his studies and is starring at Castiel intently. "The Charleston's the nicest place in town."

"Yeah, I know," he says slowly, trying to decipher what Dean's really saying. "I yelped it to find the best one."

"It's like... really fucking fancy. Suit fancy."

"I know, that's why I'm getting our suits dry cleaned."

There's a bit of heat behind Dean's eyes as he licks his lips and appraises Cas. "Bet you look damn good in a suit." Though the underlying meaning seems to imply his interests lie in getting him out of the suit. "What's the occasion?"

Cas frowns but can't say he's all that surprised that Dean wasn't listening. "We've been dating two months. I thought it'd be nice to celebrate. Plus you could use a break. You're one night away from muttering differential equations in your sleep."

"I don't already do that?" he asks skeptically. "I have fucking nightmares about this shit."

"Is the nightmare that you're not allowed to solve more of them?"

He wads up a piece of paper and throws it at Cas. "Fuck you."

Cas swats the paper aside, knocking it onto the floor. "Only if you're good."

He's only teasing, but Dean sits up a little straighter. "Oh yeah? Isn't it usually the other way around?"

And great, now he's getting hard. God damn Dean Winchester and his total control over Cas' libido. He shifts a bit on the bed to try and give his growing erection more room. Dean doesn't turn to watch, but he does smirk knowingly.

"So you're good for this Friday?"

"Fuck yeah, I'm in." Cas is lulled by the dazzling smile into thinking that's it, they can go back to studying. "I've got some, uh, conditions though."

He recognizes that tone of voice. He's intimately acquainted with the authoritative air that Dean can assume at the drop of a hat. Which is totally not helping the situation in his pants. Dean's been so busy lately (and it's not like Castiel hasn't had his own fair share of work) that they haven't done more than make out and maybe exchange handjobs before class.

Swallowing thickly, Adam's apple bobbing under Dean's attentive gaze, he clears his throat and asks, "And what might those be?"

Dean laughs and leans back in his hair, the picture of relaxed composure. The total fucking opposite of how Cas feels right now. "For starters, I'm picking out your outfit. I know you got a suit, but I want final say on the tie and shirt and all that."

That's... a bit of a let down, actually. He likes the idea of Dean choosing his clothes, but compared to the ways Dean usually exerts his authority over Castiel, it's rather...

Well, it's boring.

How can things be boring already, it's only been two months?

"Easy enough," he hedges, because he doesn't want Dean to pick up on the tinge of disappointment he tries to suppress.

Dean smiles easily, not at all noticing Cas' tightened expression. Turning back to his notes, Dean adds almost as an afterthought, "And it goes without saying that you're not going to come between now and Friday night."

He chokes on nothing. His mouth opens and closes uselessly a couple of times as he struggles to find words. In the end, there are only two words that ever need to be said to something like that.

"Yes, sir."

The rest of the week is a struggle.

And fuck Dean, honestly. Because the ass now makes an effort to sexually frustrate Cas at every opportunity. The past few weeks there wasn't much in the way of sex, but it was fine when they'd been too busy to think about it. But every damn day, Dean finds a new way to torment Cas.

First it's just simple things like the exaggerated sway of his hips when he walks by Dean. Or his switch to sleeping naked instead of in his boxers and a shirt. Ugh, and then there's the incident with the popsicle on Wednesday afternoon. That actually attracts a fair amount of attention as they walk to class together, Dean's tongue darting out far more often than necessary and deep throating the cold treat like a champ.

All of that Castiel could easily survive. At some point, Dean figures that out and ups his game.

Thursday morning he wakes up to the whole bed shaking as Dean vigorously jerks himself off. He blinks a few times, convinced he must be dreaming, but then Dean moans and bucks into his hand and nope this is definitely happening.

"This isn't fair, Dean," he grumbles.

Dean smiled at him as he comes on his stomach. Cas rolls over and huffs angrily, his morning wood as annoyed about the whole situation as he is.

That evening doesn't go much better. After eating dinner with the other Sigma Sigma Beta brothers, they head upstairs. Cas has every intention of going to bed early. Not because he's tired, mind you, but the sooner he goes to sleep the sooner he can start tomorrow and get to whatever Dean has planned.

Of course, Dean's plans don't include Cas getting out of things so easily. He closes the door behind them and roughly drags Cas back against his body before he can get too far away.

"Where you going, Pretty Boy?"

Gasping at the old nickname, so rarely used now that they're dating, he doesn't resist as Dean pushes him back against the door. His hands go to Cas' waist, slipping under his t-shirt to run his thumbs along his skin. Bodies pressed together and a thigh slotted between Cas' legs, Dean hungrily nips at his lips before claiming him in a dominating kiss.

They didn't kiss during pledge week, and it didn't take long for Cas to learn that was probably for the best. He's always willing to submit to Dean - his gaze, his touch, his desires - but damn if the effect isn't compounded when Dean's owning his mouth with his tongue. Cas wraps his hands into the short tufts of Dean's hair, moans into the kiss and squeezes Dean's thigh tightly just so he has something to hold on to.

When Dean breaks the kiss, Cas leans forward to try and chase his lips. All his effort does is earn him a tsk and a firm grip on his hips. "Always so responsive for me." Dean ducks away from another kiss, goes in to whisper in his ear, "Turn around."

There's barely enough space to move with Dean so close, but he does as he's told, bracing himself against the door. There's maybe an inch between them, Cas' skin buzzing with the proximity but demanding more. Dean doesn't move in to fill the gap, so he turns to look over his shoulder only for his lips to be captured in another kiss.

He sighs in contentment, letting Dean set the pace for a kiss that's not as needy and demanding as before but certainly not chaste or innocent. Cas is vaguely aware of Dean's hands circling around to start undoing his pants. He lets Dean coax his hips into a better position to pull them down, but only so that his ass his exposed. Dean nudges his legs apart, though they can't go far with his jeans bunched up around his thighs.

"Good boy." And then Dean leans forward, lining up his body so that his cock was in the crack of Cas' ass. "Very good boy," he amends before starting to move. The door bangs against the frame every few thrusts and Cas hisses out, "Dean, they'll- they'll hear-"

"I don't give a fuck," he growls back. "Let them know you're mine."

All Cas does is whimper in response, biting his lip to keep other noises from escaping. "You like being mine, don't you Cas? Like letting me use you like this?"

"Yes, sir! I love when you use me-"

"You still don't get to come," Dean warns as his pace picks up. "You're- Fuck..." And then the rhythm picks up and he loses the ability to speak. Cas holds on, in for the ride. He does his best to ignore the sensations and heat running through him so he can follow Dean's order not to come. The chafing of denim against his bare skin help keep him grounded (but fuck even that's enjoyable, the harsh drag of Dean's clothed cock against his exposed hole).

Soon Dean moans a strangled cry into the back of Cas' neck and then goes stock still, his weight pinning Castiel to the door. It takes a moment for him to register what just happened.

"Did you seriously just come in your pants?"

Laughing breathlessly, Dean shrugs and starts to stand back up. "Sorry, babe. Just a little worked up thinking about tomorrow."

"Big plans?" His mouth waters in anticipation. He's spent the entire week wondering what Dean's going to do to him tomorrow night after dinner. It's been torture, and it'll be even worse sitting at that nice restaurant with him, having to watch as Dean calmly enjoys his meal while Cas fidgets and tries not to beg to leave early.

"Fuck yeah."

"You know, since I'm the one whose idea it was, shouldn't I get to-"

"Nope." His grin turns into a wince pretty quickly when he starts moving towards the bed. "Ugh, I need to get out of these clothes."

With willpower that Dean's always so keen on testing, Castiel ignores his own aching dick and tries to get a handle on his arousal. Because apparently he's got to pivot from being used as a sex toy to studying fucking economics without even getting to come.

Fuck his life.

Fuck fucking his life. His life is awesome.


AN: I know Cas thinks the two month anniversary thing is kinda lame, but I personally think it can be cute. (Honestly... me and my bf barely celebrate our anniversary except as an excuse to grab a nice dinner...)

Also Cas, you should not be underestimating Dean by thinking things will be *boring*.