Kissing J'mon could never possibly get old, even though all Gilmore was getting right now was just a tease. He looked forward to being able to kiss them properly, to tangle up with them and touch their lips together tenderly or deeply. He sighed, tipping his head to allow them passage down his throat, letting out a little chuckle at their pause at his chest. He did like attention there, he liked having fingers run through it, over it, it was strangely soothing and intimate.
And though he knew J'mon had to move for them to proceed, he immediately missed their weight over his thighs. Gilmore really had nothing to complain about, though, because they were spread out so wonderfully beside him. He watched, enraptured, whilst J'mon teased and touched and then took his cock between their lips. Instantly Gilmore's hips twitched, a long, low moan rumbling in his chest at the shock of pleasure it caused.
Gilmore's hand lighted on J'mon's calf, then slid slowly up to their thigh, his blunt fingers pressing into the flawless skin as he tried to focus less on the attention being bestowed upon his cock, wanting to at least let J'mon settle into a rhythm before he came. The warmth was slowly enveloping him, and Gilmore was breathless with the pleasure, stroking over the curve of J'mon's backside, groping it gently. There was so much of their body to touch, so much that he wanted to touch, hands, mouth, anything he could press against them.
He opened his mouth to speak, to praise, but he didn't know what to call them right now. Their name seemed too formal, it didn't fit, and any honorifics wouldn't suit the mood. He felt more than that. His muscles were already tensing up, trembling as he tried to relax. As J'mon's hand met their lips in an upward stroke Gilmore's hips twitched again.
"Beloved-" he rasped. "-I'm already so close." It helped to know that J'mon knew him so well already, that they weren't going to suppose that he was always so easy to please. Gilmore prided himself on his stamina.