God, Crowley can feel the way Aziraphale's whole body trembles, all over, and he groans, and if it were possible to discorporate from sheer desire that'd be the end of him. And then Aziraphale calls him my love and it's Crowley's turn to tremble from the intimacy of it, to whimper with longing.

"What do you want?" he manages to ask, tilting his head back as Aziraphale's lips brush along his jaw, and fuck, fuck, this will kill him, he wants it so much. "Just ask, angel, I'll do it, I'll do anything."