Despite thinking he couldn't feel any more full of emotion, hearing J'mon say they loved him back was so wonderful. The fullness almost ached inside him, and it was exquisite. He knew, Gilmore knew what they felt for each other, but there was nothing quite like putting it out there, knowing it was true, and knowing that J'mon knew as much. He had no idea how difficult it had been for them when he had first arrived, when he had no knowledge not only of their relationship but of them ever meeting before. To have come from a place where they had already woven themselves into each others lives, to meet a man who knew them only by name must have been hard.
Gilmore would make up for it. Short as that time had been, he would make up for it.
Having J'mon press into his touch was one of the single most incredible things Gilmore had experienced, and it was easily one of the sexiest things he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. To have them arch like they needed his touch was as much a wonder as everything else. He wasn't an incredibly humble man, but when it came to J'mon, Gilmore saw himself as a simple man given a gift beyond his wildest dreams.
He wasn't ready for the kiss to end, and he certainly wasn't ready to stop touching, making a soft noise in protest of the removal of his hand, the reason for him coming back when he had still forgotten in favour of turning all of his focus onto J'mon.
Still, Gilmore obediently closed his eyes. "I'm sure I accused you of being a terrible tease earlier," he said, only then remembering that yes, it had been a handful of minutes ago. Because J'mon had a gift for him. His face lit up, a delayed reaction he was sure he was going to be forgiven for.
Blinking open his eyes again, Gilmore looked down at what was being offered to him. It was beautiful, was the first thing he thought. It was ornate and brassy in colour, like their scales. Picking it out of J'mon's palm, Gilmore inspected it closer, surprise and elation already clear on his face. The purple and the brass went together perfectly, and then he lifted it up to look at the inscription.
His mouth opened an closed a few times, his eyes tracking over the words again and again, any sound apparently unable to make it passed his throat. This was for him. For him to wear. J'mon's name, their title, on it so that no one would doubt who he belonged to.
Gilmore tried blinking a few times, finally lifting his gaze to meet J'mon's.
"Which hand would you have me wear it on, beloved?" he asked, his voice tight. It seemed to be the extent of his words for the moment, but his expression said everything he couldn't, eyes wide and shiny, cheeks flushed darker than normal, body tipped so that he was looking up at J'mon despite their position allowing them to be mostly on eye-level, an act of supplication.