Crowley doesn't mind his eyes. He's a snake, plus he's a demon, and honestly compared to a lot of the hosts of Down Below he got off lucky. And they're great for spooking humans once in a while, on special occasions.

But someone saying they're beautiful, Aziraphale calling any part of him beautiful...oh, that makes him groan. "They'd better not," he manages, his voice rasping. "Because I am not sharing now that I've finally got you. Just so we're clear on that." Hands on wings are good, but it's not enough now, and they wander along Aziraphale's upper back, his neck, and one goes lower back to his waist and starts teasing at all those too-neatly arranged clothes, waistcoat and tucked in shirt and there are buttons pressed between them that he has had honest-to-Lucifer erotic dreams about undoing, sometimes with his teeth.