They had been told that many times before, by many different people, but that never lessened the impact. Dragons were all vain creatures, without exception, but they showed their vanity in different ways depending on the color of their scales. J'mon was probably a bit of an anomaly for brasses, in that regard. Rather than simply collecting art and beautifully crafted things, they had made their very essence into art. It pervaded every aspect of their being. It was who they were, what they loved, who they loved. Their gift of speech was a much more subtle thing, too. Charm didn't need to be an overly complex thing. It was soft, subtle, easy. It either hit its mark or it didn't. And with Gilmore it had hit home in a way that it had for exceptionally few others.
J'mon's smirk deepened and they tilted their head softly to the side. "Perhaps," they said. "Though that is an extremely tall order to fill, even for you. But I can say that you have brought me pleasure, in some way or another, in many forms." The fact that they could make themselves much smaller than their true form helped. Even now, they could complete the transformation if they wanted to - in such a way that they would feet easily on the bed. Were they to truly revert, however, this room could not hope to hold them.
They trailed the smooth side of their talons against Gilmore's cheek and pushed down the desire to rise and shove Gilmore down on the bed beneath them. But it was just a brief flare of heat, the shimmer in their eyes flickering almost imperceptibly for a moment. They reached out with their still-human hand and trailed their fingers down Gilmore's chest and his stomach, giving him an indulgent smile, but even that turned a little sharp as they turned their palm and cupped his cock through his pants. "This belongs to me too," they purred. "And I get to decide when you share it. Understood?"