A Munto Fanfiction: Whispers Of Velvet ©RedWingedAngel002
Disclaimer: Munto; Sora o Miageru Shōjo no Hitomi ni Utsuru Sekai © Kyoto Animation; Yoshiji Kigami and Tomoe Aratani
Genre: Drama, Erotica, Fantasy, Parody, and Romance
Summary: It was times like these that he really hated their 'connection.' MxY.


A/N: I blame my raging hormones and the song, Bang, which I had also made an AMV for: youtu. be/ddStYUoS-is
WARNING: Slight mature content ahead.


Song: Bang by: Armchair Cynic


Japanese Index:

-sama: Honorific: The respectful equivalent of -san; -sama is primarily in addressing persons of much higher rank: Lord, Lady


"Talking."
'Thinking.'
Memories/Flashbacks.


One-Shot: Carnal Desire

The cool air nipped his heated skin. Sighing, Munto cast a careful glance to the evening blue sky, seeing that it was well passed midnight. The high, silver moon, with its crescent smile, peeked through the marbled pillars of his bedchambers and smirked at him knowingly, reading his lewd thoughts.

"Dammit." Growling in frustration, Munto ripped the covers off his bare body with a tight fist.

This was getting out of hand.

At first, he convinced himself it was perfectly normal, that such thoughts would pass. They did not.

"She is still just a child," the king rationalized with himself. Now in her First Year in high school, another name day of her youth was celebrated this late February. Has such time truly passed? Those months, when he had been able to hold her, protect her; have her in his arms? When he had unknowingly claimed her heart through his promise.

The king swallowed, recalling when she had that dress. The one that revealed her creamy, soft shoulders; its golden band that dipped low, modestly covering her developing chest, and belled out at the thigh.

Damn his seamstress; all he requested was that it would be pink. Munto thought it would be suitable for the girl, seeing that it reminded him of a certain umbrella she constantly carried around. Pink. Was that so damn hard to ask? But no, she had to make it so tempting with its thin, gossamer fabric.

He grit his teeth, remembering how cute she looked with his cape draped around those shoulders, wide, sea green moons gazing up at him in surprise. It was not something his mind would let go; how her lush lips lifted upward and cheeks tint with a warm hue, when he had promised to return.

All he wanted to do was wrap his hands around the crown of her head again, pull her in, and not to his chest this time—for her to understand his heart, Heaven's history—but to his mouth. He had been so close to doing that day, too.

Munto had gotten as far as touching foreheads.

If he could of gone back in time, he would NOT of done such a thing, seeing how close he was; the monarch could recall the warmth of her breath tickle his cheeks, long, thick lashes, closed with sleep, and pale locks of hair, curled at his fingertips. He was so damn close. But he retreated, realized that if he had done such a thing, it would make leaving Yumemi that much more difficult.

So, perhaps he did the right thing, then, but he realized, now, that because of the said action, it had caused something to shift. Physically, yes—had caused his gut to tighten and coil with a platonic heat, cheeks to uncharacteristically tingled with warmth—, emotionally—he had not dare utter the word love in his mind, until then—, but it was something more, as well.

His brows furrowed as he combed long fingers through his untamed firelocks. It had caused their connection—the unspoken, magical bond, which they had managed to obtain during their first physical touch—the brush of fingertips—to open, again.

He had not seen every memory, like before, like the tide she bore when he caught her, but was given quite a lot of information to what she had been up to those past two years: confusion, both a gain and loss of direction, sky gazing, and thinking—of him—of their previous encounter. When he had realized what was happening, he had quickly removed his forehead from hers.

The king was not quite sure how to react; he were both touched and humbled, as well as hesitant. He knew she still needed time.

What he really regretted were some of the things that he had seen through her eyes, things that no man should be able to prey eyes on… Yet.

Naked flesh.

As she changed out of her modest, cotton white, uniform—was submerged in the full, heated bath; hands, which adjusted her sports bra during PE, caressed pained, monthly abdominals, stretched tight muscles…

It drove him crazy! Not just because of the obvious, naked, situation, but because it was through her eyes—her beautiful, comfortable, every day gaze—because she had seen this, her own body, time and time again. Meaning, it had made him want to memorize, map her physique through his own hungry gaze, time and time again. Oh, the things he wanted to do, to learn, to teach… To feel, to taste.

Small huffs of air brushed passed the disgruntled king's lips; he was thinking about it again. Munto felt a chill crawl up his spine, a familiar, haunting set of invisible fingertips that had become a common feeling throughout his nightly ritual.

In a half lidded daze, he thought, 'Here we go again.'

Munto closed his eyes and let his mind wander. The first thing that hit his senses was her sweet scent, vanilla and some floral plant from her lands that he still could not identify. It caressed his nostrils and tempted him with its inviting scent. He recalled noticing it the first time, while he carried her up to the Heavens.

"Munto," like bells, her sweet voice chimed in his keen, pointed ears. One by one, his senses were drawn to her, soaked in the lapping wave of her 'presence.' The monarch felt the corner of his mouth twitch, chuckling at himself. There was no turning back at this point; he was in for the ride.

Fingers brushing against his flush cheek were the first thing he 'felt;' soft pads caressing his nose, ears, lids, lips… A thumb pressed at the center of his furrowed brow and pushed upward, with light pressure.

"You don't have to do that when you're around me, Munto," the girl exclaimed with a bubbling giggle.

He loosened the strain at his forehead. "Better?"

"Mhmm…" the reply was soft, low, heated with knowing secrets. Hands that were once caressing his face slowly traveled down his neck and to his broad shoulders. The familiar warmth that radiated off the small girl brushed beside him as she leaned forward, on her knees; Munto could feel her naked thighs press against his crossed shins and lips at his ear.

"What is it that you want?" 'Yumemi' asked, suggestively.

The king tightened his grip on the covers, teeth biting hard at his lip's bottom companion. Oh, what he wanted…

To teach and have her grip him with those small, soft hands.

To join, burry himself deeply within her own fruit of hot nerves, and never let go.

To truly fly to Heaven with her and back, time and time again.

To love her; to know what it was like to make love.

To soul bond…

He opened his lids, finding himself drowning in her green, luster gaze, knowing she was there, but not real, that it was a dream. Munto's eyes wandered anyway, down her pale, swan neck, lingering at her shoulders, to her developing, pale breasts, two rosebud nipples, firmed with excitement and the cool air, trailing down again, to her soft stomach, the curving dip and widening of hips, and the juncture of her thighs, where a nest of dark curls lay.

He swallowed again, having trouble breathing. What did she ask, again?

'Yumemi' giggled, knowing his thoughts, and repeated the question, "What is it you want, my King?"

Munto hissed. Why was it that when she added those two little words, aroused him so? The question for him was: would she really say that? Would he have her beg for release, begging?

'Please, Munto-sama. Please, my King, I need you'

The bite of nails raking at his bare chest broke his reverie; bringing him back to his previous thought and a thrilling jolt to the pit of his stomach.

"Stop thinking," she quietly demanded in his ear, heated brushing the epidermis and mouth pecking lightly at the left side of his neck.

A shaky breath escaped his lips, forcing himself to relax, yet, knowing that he would steadily become strained again with tight, pleasure-filled, muscles.

"Tell me… Please?" The plea sounded more like the Yumemi he knew, was soft and timid. What he also knew, and wanted to bring out, was that courageous, demanding girl that hid deep within her quiet persona: the one who went against his demands—ordered him for answers, hundreds of feet above him, on the Ferries wheel, while Gntarl and his men dared to try and capture what was his— *3

A growl of frustration, both at the memory and at his present situation, bubbled at his throat. He dove further within the dream and let go of his resistance. No more dawdling.

Munto grabbed the girl's petite shoulders, flipped, and pinned her down, firm desire now pressed against her pale stomach. The tables were turned, now, he thought with a wicked grin. Capturing her wide gaze with his own dominating bullion, Munto seized 'Yumemi's' lips, tongue plunging in the cavern of her hot, wet mouth and intertwining their hands in a firm grip.

It was then that something shifted in his mind, stirring the atmosphere.

True, he had fantasies of her often, as of late, and kissing was a top priority, but this was different: softer, warmer.

Needy lips settled themselves at the juncture of her throat, daring lick and taste the salty flesh. Mewls that he had manage to coax out of her dared him to go further, nipping the skin softly with rows of white teeth.

A surprised, jolting gasp.

Munto lightly feathered her frame with large hands, trailing down the path his eyes ventured, previously.

She was still waiting for his answer.

"I want you," he whispered in husked desire, possessive words and body alike claiming the girl.

What she said next confused him: "Why?"

A pregnant pause settled, growing and leaving, just as it came. 'Why?'

That was not normal.

For some reason, his thoughts returned to the shift he felt earlier, when he had kissed the tempting little vixen…

A shift?

Why did it feel familiar? As if consumed by a title wave of lapping emotion… Of warm, flickering memories.

Of… Oh. Oh shit.

Connection. Dream. Yumemi.

The real Yumemi was here—In his dream—In his wet dream.

How in the world—?

'You have shared dreams with her before, you moron. Why are you be surprised!'

But she was not supposed to be in this one!

Wide eyed, Munto paused, all thoughts still, not quite sure what to do.

Did she even realize they were sharing another dream together? Has she had dreams of them, doing such intimate activity, before? The young man swallowed, what was he supposed to do?

Well, what his body wanted to do was just to continue on, to see what exactly he could coax out of the girl he desired so. However, his conscious bickered at him, saying that it was not proper —did not want to tarnish her innocent thoughts with his own hormonal ones.

While his heart…

His heart wanted to tell her—tell her so badly—to show her how much he loved her.

'I can go with that. Take things slow…' feeling her soft breasts press oh-so nicely to his muscled chest. Munto's previous, demanding lips were soft and careful, lightly trailing down the juncture of her throat like fire; she gasped and shuddered against his hard frame.

"Because…"

He drawled out and smirked against her skin, being almost unwilling to state the answer with its obviousness. He wanted to keep her guessing.

The young man gave her a moment to see if she really would take a nibble at his tempting coax. Seeing that he wasn't going to get an answer, as desired, Munto removed himself from their close, intimate position and gazed at the disheveled girl-woman below him.

It was like nothing he had imagined: pale locks of gold fanned around her head like a halo, bangs tickling her small nose and flushed cheeks, creating a surreal site as she looked up at him. She was having trouble catching her breath, shallow huffs of air escaping her lips and causing her soft chest to heave. As if drugged, Yumemi looked up at him with half lidded eyes, dilated, black, pupils settling in the center of her deep, excited emerald gaze, valleys of clover ringing the edges. He liked how she looked at him like that… Liked that a lot.

He watched the girl blinked, as if remembering something, and snapped out of her trance, a pretty blush creeping up her neck and pepper her cheeks.

'How cute,' he thought with a soft smile, studying himself with a strong, muscled elbow and lightly caressed her cheek, eyes tendering.

"You really do not know, huh? It is quite obvious, love," he said in endearment, giving her a cheeky grin.

The girl bit her lip, rose tinting her cheeks further, and confusion welling her wide gaze.

'I love you...' Munto answered her silently with his thoughts, his mischievous expression melting away and being replaced with a warm one. 'I love you so much, my sweet, precious Little Dreamer.'

Leaning down, with his breath caressing her lips, the king asked in a low whisper, "You really want to know?"

Yumemi nodded, unable to find her voice.

Munto shifted, mouth brushing against her earlobe, noting that she had her eyes closed, now, and leaned up towards him eagerly, "It is because I lo-"

Ka-thump.

Suddenly, Munto found himself, bare, alone, chilled, and face-to-face with the marbled floor. 'No…'

Of all the ungodly times to fall out of bed, he chose now to do it?!

"This bed can fit five fucking people in it," the mumbling voice gradually grew louder in volume, "Hell, I have never, in my years fallen—! WHY IN THE HELL DID I—?!"

The king roared in frustration, causing the cool limestone to fog under his breath. After a few shaking breaths later, his coiled body relaxed in defeat, smacking his forehead on the hard floor.

It's a gift and a curse; it was times like these that he really hated their 'connection.'

However, a small voice told him that this was not going to be the last time this was going to happen, either. Bullion eyes opened to stare back at his own crinkled, reflective gaze, hope filling his breast and causing his heart to quicken in his pointed ears. He was uncertain of whether that was a good or bad thing…

"Yumemi…" Munto whispered her name, like a prayer. The new sound tasted the cool air and it was fresh.

"Yumemi…!"


A/N: Now, that's definitely one FML moment for you. Munto; I'm sorry not sorry. Can you say sexually-frustrated-king-plz? I love making him have his raw moments, even if it's a little OOC, for the sharp man; I mean, we all have them.
I wasn't planning on it to cut off like that at the end, but my I've-been-typing-for-four-hours-and-it's-now-three-in-the-morning-say-whut?-brain was running out of gas.
Have a safe, Happy New Year, everyone! Let's end the year with a BANG! ;D
Also, just to give you a heads up, the companion story to this piece was actually written first, so look for that later.
I kinda want to make this a series, filling it with frustrated!Munto-fantacy-timez! Not like I draw enough of it! Ahah! Go listen to the song and watch my AMV!

—Ari [12.29.10]