It starts simple enough - with a kiss to the neck. With a caress of teeth along the scales. (Who is to say where the border between skin and scales are, and who is the Mycologist not to cross it.) With a tickle of the tongue along the collar bones, which does not require the Mycologist to bend his head down in the slightest.

He pulls away, briefly, to shed his tailcoat like one might shed skin.
"Oh, thou art a feast," he purrs.