my professor, my obsession || cillian murphy

chapter nineteen

That night was a sleepless blur, a relentless cycle of tossing, turning, and fluctuating between feeling too hot and too cold. Tears welled up more than once, adding to the turmoil. Despite the exhaustion, I knew I couldn't afford to miss class the next day. There was something pressing that needed to be addressed with Cillian. My mind was a chaotic whirlwind, threatening to overwhelm me entirely.

Morning came, but I felt far from rested. I stumbled through my morning routine in a haze, barely registering as I slipped into comfortable sweatpants, skipped makeup entirely, and half-heartedly ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to tame it. With a heavy heart and a muddled mind, I made my way to class. Throughout the lecture, I did my best to avoid Cillian's gaze, unable to muster the courage to confront him. Yet, despite my efforts, there came a fleeting moment when our eyes met, and in that brief instant, a flood of emotions threatened to engulf me once again.

As I looked in his direction, I found his eyes already fixed on me, and an unsettling sensation gripped me. Regret swelled within me, evident in the guilt reflecting in my eyes, though I wasn't sure if he saw it as clearly as I did. My mind was constantly replaying the night before. Despite all his help during my breakdown, it still angered me that he seemed to care about the age gap.

After an intense moment of eye contact shared between us, Cillian stood up, clearing his throat. "Alright, everyone," he announced, his voice reverberating through the lecture hall, "I think we'll end today's session ahead of schedule. I highly recommend you all finalize your final analysis before our next meeting. I look forward to seeing you all tomorrow." With the dismissal, the room swiftly emptied, save for Cillian, who detained me with purpose.

"Clementine, a word?" He questioned his tone grave. I nodded, patiently awaiting for the entire hall to clear before approaching his desk.

"About last night," he began, "you have to understand. I don't want to not see you, Clementine. But no matter how much I want you, there will always be this feeling inside of me telling me that one day, this won't work out. You'll find someone better for you, someone your age. And I can't help but think that's the best thing for you."

I shook my head as he spoke, disagreeing with everything he was saying. "The best thing for me is you," I told him, "you know I'm mature, right? I'm not worried about age, that's the last thing I'm thinking about. It's you, Cillian. I could give less of a fuck how old you are. Don't you feel the same about me?"

He nodded his head. "Of course," he answered, but he still sounded unsure.

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions," I asserted, my voice imbued with confidence, "I'm almost 20 years old. I know what I'm doing." His response was silence, his gaze fixed upon me. I looked at him, my eyes narrowed with determination, while he muttered something under his breath in frustration. It was clear that he was restraining himself, but I was prepared to push him.

Taking hold of his hand, I pulled him closer, sensing no resistance from him, I continued until there was no space left between us. "I'm yours," I declared, "I'm yours."

He looked down at me, a mixture of frustration and conviction evident in his expression. "You're mine," he acknowledged, his body tensing slightly. "All mine," he added, as though reaffirming the reality of the situation.

"Yes," I affirmed, my hands finding their way to his hips, "Exactly." Leaning in, I whispered my agreement, feeling the tension in his body as he closed his eyes briefly, inhaling deeply.

Standing on my tiptoes, I shamelessly kissed him, sensing his reluctance to respond but also the underlying desire. Though he refrained from kissing me back, I could sense his struggle to resist a smile that threatened to form. "God, you make me weak," he confessed, his tone tinged with defeat, acknowledging the power I held over him.

A mischievous smile played on my lips as I leaned in for another kiss. This time, he kissed back eagerly, his grip on my waist firm as he pressed me against his desk, a hunger in his kiss that ignited a fire within me. His lips met mine with an urgency that left no room for hesitation, and I could feel the undeniable hardness of his clothed dick pressing against mine, igniting a primal desire.

" When's your next class?" he whispered huskily into my ear, his breath hot against my skin as he continued to hold me close, his touch sending shivers down my spine.

"It's canceled," I lied, my desire for him eclipsing any concern for the trivialities of my schedule. Though I sensed his skepticism, he merely shrugged it off, his focus returning to our passionate exchange.

"Fuck," he muttered suddenly, breaking our kiss, "we can't. Not here."

A frustrated groan escaped me at the interruption, knowing the risk of being discovered in the classroom. Yet, my desire for him remained relentless. "Your office," I promptly demanded, my eyes locking with his as I awaited his response.

He deliberated for a moment, his hands still lingering on my body, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips before he pulled me into another searing kiss, then reluctantly released me.

"We better leave now then."

***

Sorry ik it's short but I wonder what's gonna happen in the next chapter...

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