It's a minor miracle that the cry he lets out stays within the walls of this little room. Even so, out of some very human impulse to keep anyone from hearing Aziraphale bites his lip again, trying to muffle his own noises as best he can with his hands still tangled in her hair. It's not especially effective, but the soundproofing is good and his miracles are reliable even when they're not done entirely consciously, so it doesn't really matter.

"クソ野郎--fuck, don't you dare stop, merde, belle gredin, ne t'arrête pas--"

His hips rock and sway. He loves her fingers, long and slender and every bit as agile as her hot tongue, and already he's lost count of how many times she's made him come on them alone.