To Crowley's mind those are all compliments or at least statements of fact rather than scolds or insults, and would be even without the love in Aziraphale's voice as he says them. She chuckles throatily--no other way to do anything at the moment, given what's in her mouth. Sometime she'll play a different game, tie him up and draw this out and count how many languages she can earn. Keep silent track, along with her mental lists of the most times she's made him swear during one bout of lovemaking. She has several such lists now. It's her favorite hobby by far.

Not nearly enough swearwords yet, though all those names are very pretty...it barely counts as a miracle to make her finger slick, and then she's reaching further back, circling the tight puckered hole there, slipping just the tip of her finger in. Her tongue swirls around the head of his cock at the same time as she pulls up, then moves back down. On her knees with an angel's cock in her mouth and a finger up his arse, in the cloakroom at the Ritz.