my professor, my obsession || cillian murphy

chapter twenty

    The moment his office door shut, Cillian's tongue was already down my throat. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me closer as the kiss became more passionate. The line between professor and student had blurred long, long ago. Feeling the warmth of my body against his, Cillian moaned softly into the kiss. His hands roamed over my skin, exploring every inch they could reach while maintaining their hold on me.

As the kiss intensified, my heart raced wildly. My tongue danced with his, seeking deeper connection. His other hand found its way to my lower back, pulling me even tighter against him. Our kisses became demanding, hungry for more as we lost ourselves in desire.

As Cillian continued to kiss me, his hands deftly worked at unfastening buttons and sliding zippers. His touch was both tender and possessive, mirroring the passionate kisses we shared.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured against my skin, his lips tracing delicate patterns along my collarbone. His fingers moved lower, teasing at the hem of my shirt as he tried to get closer to the warmth we both craved.

As his hands found their way under my shirt, Cillian pressed his lips against my neck. My breathing hitched in my throat as he reached around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer. His hard length pressed against my core, a testament to the intensity of our connection. He began to grind against me, our combined moans filling the room.

With a groan of desire, Cillian broke the kiss, his eyes locked onto mine. His hands moved to his own pants, his movements shaky with need. In one swift motion, he undid the zipper and pushed the fabric down, revealing his dick

He groaned into the kiss, his fingers digging into my hips as he lost control of his need. He picked me up effortlessly, my legs wrapped around his waist, and walked me back against the wall. Cillian thrusted himself inside me, his hips meeting mine with a groan of pleasure. I gasped at the intensity of the feeling, my fingers tangling in his hair as he moved at a slow pace. Too slow.

My breathing hitched as I felt myself tighten around him. He thrust deeper, his pace finally quickening as the sensations overtook the both of us. "God, you feel incredible," he panted, his lips finding my earlobe.

I arched my back as he bit down gently. The mix of pain and pleasure was exquisite. He continued to thrust, our bodies moving together in a rhythm that felt both wild and intimate.

His hands roamed over my body, finding my sensitive spots as he claimed me completely. Our moans and gasps echoed off the walls. I wouldn't be surprised if somebody heard us. The pace of his thrusts increased, mirroring the desperation in his eyes.

"Fuck!" I groaned, but was quickly cut off by Cillian's hand clasping over my mouth.

He shook his head with a small smile, brushing the hair out of my face, "we should really quiet down," he said, "we wouldn't want anyone to hear us, would we?"

It was impossible to speak but I managed to shake my head as I moaned into his hand. He released his hand and captured my lips in a fiery kiss that spoke of possession and desire.

"More," I panted.

"More?" He questioned with a smirk, his hips pounding harder against mine. "Always more,"he promised, his dick throbbing as he pushed deeper inside me, his finger nails digging into my hips so hard that I swore he was drawing blood.

I couldn't control my moans, but I tried my hardest to. He laughed at my feeble attempts, leaning closer, "music to my ears," he whispered, voice low and husky with desire. He groaned loudly, his thrusts becoming harder and deeper as I began to find my release, my body shuddering with pleasure as I reached my peak.

Spent, yet still connected, he pulled out of me, our bodies slick with sweat and desire. He looked down at me, his eyes filled with lust. "You're mine," he said, his voice rough from exertion.

I looked up at him with love and adoration. This was what I've been waiting for all along—to be claimed by him completely. "That was good," I said.

"It was," he agreed, his voice hoarse. He leaned down to kiss me tenderly, tasting himself on my lips. "But it's not nearly enough," he added, his eyes darkening with desire. "I want more of you."

"As you wish," I murmured, knowing that he could have anything he wanted from me. He pulled me close again, our bodies sliding together effortlessly. He kissed me deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands roamed over your body once more.

Everything felt perfect and serene until he abruptly pulled away, his eyes widening with panic. "Shit!" he cursed, realization dawning on him. "I have a fucking class!" My jaw dropped in disbelief. It had slipped my mind entirely that Cillian had a schedule too. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath.

I groaned in disappointment, though I nodded in understanding. He hastily gathered his belongings, ensuring I left first before rushing off to his own class. Relief washed over me knowing things were back on track, yet a lingering unease remained. David's safety was still in my thoughts, a weight pressing on my chest. I was eager to get home and look after him, but also dreading to leave Cillian. The feeling was overwhelmingly unpleasant.

I went back up to my dorm room and finally decided to start packing. I wasn't sure how much to bring back, I wasn't even sure how long I'd have to stay. The worst part about it all was that Christmas was in a few weeks. I couldn't imagine Christmas without my entire family.

Starting with my clothes, I attempted to drown out my racing thoughts with music, but my mind stubbornly refused to cooperate. David's presence loomed large in my thoughts, tightening my chest with each passing moment. The more I dwelled on it, the more suffocating the feeling became. Struggling to regain composure, I attempted to take deep breaths, only to find the sensation worsening.

As I fought to steady my breath, a wave of panic crashed over me, engulfing my senses in a whirlwind of fear and disorientation. The room felt oppressively small, the air thick and suffocating. Each inhale became a laborious task, as if my lungs were refusing to cooperate. My heart hammered against my ribcage, threatening to break free.

I looked to clutch at anything within reach, and grabbed onto my desk chair to help me up. But the room spun around me, blurring into a chaotic frenzy of colors and shapes, and I fell right back down. Sweat beaded on my forehead, my palms slick and clammy.

I sobbed in fear, feeling trapped in a never ending torment. Each passing second felt like an eternity, worsening the relentless wave panic coursing through my veins. Every fiber of my being screamed for release, for escape from the suffocating embrace of anxiety.

Eventually, my sobs became less frequent, and with each slow, deliberate breath, I felt the tightness in my chest loosen its grip. The racing rhythm of my heart gradually slowed, and I finally regained my ability to breath properly.

Tears were still streaming down my face as I laid there on my floor, shaking. The uncertainty of what would happen was killing me from the inside out.

***

Sex and a panic attack. Weird chapter