He doesn't have to say anything; it's enough to feel the heat of his body, the way he molds himself against Aziraphale, as if their corporations were made to fit together. The way he kisses, as if love was something that can be tasted. Maybe it is, Aziraphale thinks dizzily as Crowley rolls him onto his back without breaking apart. His senses are full of Crowley, and he never wants to be rid of it.

Aziraphale opens his eyes and looks up at Crowley in adoration, nearly misses what he's doing until the demon touches his nipple with clever fingers. He bites his lip and makes a thrilled little whine, the sensitivity surprising for such a superfluous part of his body. "You clever, beautiful creature," he whispers back. "You show it better than anyone has ever said it."

He means to touch Crowley in turn, to explore more of his newly exposed skin. But then Crowley lays a hand on his cock and his hands lay uselessly at his sides, clutching the sheets as he moans out Crowley's name. It's so gentle -- almost too gentle -- and he arches his back instinctively. "Please," he begs, not even sure what he's asking for, only that he wants more of it. "You are so good to me, my darling. Please."