Now, Crowley grins. He loves this, he loves every bit of this, it's blissful and he could happily roll around and drown in the astonishing feeling of love returned, but he's also a demon and he's wicked and a chance to tease like this doesn't come along every day. Except maybe now it will, and fuck, what a turn-on that idea is.

"Please what, angel?" he says, hissing it a little. Slowly, so slowly, he pulls his fist up, stroking, his grip still much too light. It's on purpose. He bends down, kisses Aziraphale's ear, flicks his tongue against the lobe, strokes again. "Tell me. Whatever you want, tell me."