Happy St. George's Day

Yes, it's April 23, St. George's Day, and also by an amazing coincidence, Shakespeare's birthday, calculated by counting backward from the first known date in his life, his christening.

So who was St. George, anyway? He was the patron saint of England, demoted in modern times by the papacy when they were having a house clean, getting rid of dubious saints. No one celebrates his day much, although according to this article in the Daily Telegraph this year the English revived it as a celebration, but without any politically incorrect overtone of gung-ho patriotism--a bit of flag display, and a rather sweet Ode to St. George: The True Dragon by poet Brian Patten.
George's claim to fame is that he slew a dragon who was about to devour a maiden, as you can see in this rendering by Ucello, where everyone looks supremely well behaved. Yes, there's a bit of blood, but it should mop up quite well. At any moment the maiden is going to offer St. George something to read ...

So it got me thinking about dragons and who does dragons in erotic romance. I can't think of any, but then I'm an ignoramus. In another genre, there's Naomi Novik's brilliant Temeraire series (excuse me while I squee like a pre-teenager), which portrays the most wonderful intense relationship between Captain Lawrence and his dragon.

Dragons, I think, must be difficult in the wonderful world of -weres. They breathe fire, possibly when they get excited, which could lead to some unfortunate pubic hair depilation by fire. They are big and scaly. They are very interested in gold.

And, they eat virgins.

On the other hand, they are mysterious and sexy in a reptilian sort of way and might be more fun than George himself who'd need a can opener to do anything interesting. Or do you like the thought of a man in armor clanking into your boudoir, mighty lance readied for action...

Any thoughts on St. George or dragons? Armor fetishism?