There's a sharp gasp at the accidental bite, but all is forgiven as Crowley continues nibbling at the soft skin of his neck. It's not enough to hurt, but the angel's skin is so sensitive; it blooms pink with every little nip. It makes him forget to exploit that spot on Crowley's ribs, simply holding onto the demon while he makes a soft sound of approval.

He's vaguely aware of Crowley removing his jacket and then going for the waistcoat buttons. When Crowley stops and asks permission, he blinks out of his haze and looks at him in mild surprise. Not because he asked, but because of the blushing. What has Crowley so bashful? It's just his waistcoat. His favorite waistcoat, yes, but he trusts Crowley with the buttons.

It's rather endearing, whatever the cause. "Sweet boy." He kisses the color on Crowley's cheeks, hands sliding onto his back and rubbing lazy circles there. "Of course you can."