It did feel like worship, that was true enough. And while J'mon rather ironically prided themselves on their humility and closeness to the people they protected, there was just something about such a simple act of devotion that warmed them up better than just about anything else could. It wasn't even physical - or at least it didn't have to be. Gilmore knew all the right things to say to make their resolve crumble beneath them. And it did. Gods, but it did. Whatever self-control they had started with was long gone now and they were utterly willing to give Gilmore anything he desired.
He didn't seem to need much instruction when it came to touching them, either. One day they would show him how to do things precisely the way they liked it - and only that - but they were enjoying letting him explore far too much to redirect his efforts whatsoever. Except, perhaps, one not-so-small thing. But they would get to that.
J'mon pressed back against him, giving him a little bit more friction and a hint that he could have more if he wanted it. If he needed it. "I always want more," they teased, "as much as you can give." The insatiable nature of dragons, they supposed, or perhaps just their own endless desire for experience and pleasure. Gilmore was doing perfectly, though. He gave just enough before straying elsewhere, keeping J'mon right on that brilliant edge.
"No longer than I have spent between yours," they said and tipped their head back to brush their lips against Gilmore's jaw. They tugged him forward for a kiss, turning softly into him and sliding their fingers back up into his hair again. "You are welcome to it now," they murmured against his lips. "You are welcome to anything, everything. Give me your utter devotion." And if they needed to move in order for to receive it from him, that was but a small price to pay to ensure that Gilmore remembered he always existed in the warm comfort of their favor.