Dragons were quite a sore spot for Gilmore, but he was an intelligent man. He could see the shimmer of J'mon - Devo'ssa's - scales and the way the light was catching their skin. He knew what he was looking at. And he was breathless.
It thrilled him to know that his homeland was guarded by something so glorious. It thrilled him more to know that Devo'ssa would be helping defeat the dragons that had assaulted his home. And he envied his future self for the pleasure of watching them in their true form showing off their power.
He pressed his lips to the scaled hand, then ran his tongue against them. J'mon's skin was hotter than his own, and it made Gilmore hungry. He rose from the bed so that their bodies were pressed together properly, keeping his other hand in place just below the small of J'mon's back.
"You are so beautiful." J'mon would have been told that a thousand score times, but one more never hurt. "Every inch of you. Thank you for showing me."
Gilmore was hard, and even the loose pants he wore did nothing to hide it, especially as close as they were now. Who was going to blame him, though? J'mon was gorgeous, J'mon's heat was warming Gilmore's blood. And the thought of what lay in their future was impossible to shake, impossible to push out of his head.
"Tell me," he whispered. "Do I get to touch every part of you with these?" He brushed J'mon's scaled hand against his cheek. "Do I get to pleasure you in your true form?" A lesser mortal might fear that, but Gilmore wanted to know how. He wanted the honour of that kind of worship.