Teach Her | Cillian Murphy x Reader

25. Praise

November 3

7:38 PM

The dark room was only lit up by the television and a tiny lamp, illuminating a soft glow on Cillian and I in his living room. The movie was quiet, almost inaudible, the sound of rain gently patting against the window was almost louder. Quiet cracks of lightning made me glance over at Cillian, who sat with a book in his hand, reading it whilst I focused on the movie.

I laid on the couch, my legs sprawled across his lap and my head gently resting against the armrest. One of his hands held the book while the other one focused on rubbing my bare legs gently, never letting me out of his touch. Although my eyes were on the screen in front of me, I could occasionally feel his eyes on me, reading me instead of his book.

I hummed quietly, swiftly moving onto my back, and looking up at the ceiling. Cillian didn't budge, still fixated on the book that he held in his hands. I looked at him before carefully lifting my leg up, knocking the book out of his hand with my foot, finally causing his attention to switch, looking over at me. Through the darkness I could see just the outline of his features; his piercing eyes shielded slightly by his glasses, his sharp jaw, and his lips that curved into a subtle smile.

"If you want my attention you can just tell me," he said closing the book, reaching over and placing it on the small table in front of us. "You know that I'd give it to you if you asked politely."

"I know," I said with a nod, giving him a small smile. "But it's much easier just getting it like that."

Cillian's fingers rubbed over my bare skin, sending shivers through my body, a feeling of warmth pooling in my stomach. I stared at him, watching the way his eyes raked over my body, feeling as if though he was drinking me in; analyzing every single one of my features, and admiring them.

I looked back at the television, deciding to shift my attention back to the movie, somehow already feeling flustered from the minuscule exchange of words. Despite my attention shifting elsewhere, Cillian's remained on myself, not bothering to return to his reading.

"Do you want to tell me what happened today?" he asked interrupting the movie, although my attention was barely on it, it was only a distraction from him.

"What do you mean?" I asked, taking a quick glance at him, our eyes meeting immediately since he was already staring at me.

"You acted different today," he started, his voice low. "And you cried. I've never seen you cry before."

I swallowed, hesitantly looking back at Cillian. His eyes still focused on me, and his hands sliding up and down my legs. His fingertips drifted from my shin, to just barely going past my knee, daring to go any further.

"Family and friend stuff," I said sharply, staring at the television in front of me, the bright screen burning my eyes that had faintly adjusted to the dimly lit room. "Just stupid stuff that happened over the weekend."

Cillian nodded carefully, sighing quietly to himself.

"I understand," he said through an almost whisper, a hesitant break in his sentence. "Do you want to tell me more about it?"

My lips thinned as I thought, wondering what I could tell him. A lot of these issues stemmed from him, but that was something that he didn't have to know about.

"My father isn't very proud of me," I admitted, sitting up slightly on the couch, wanting to take my legs away from Cillian, but his hands gently held them. "He's just too strict, and he doesn't listen to me. Ever."