Crowley moans and leans against him, pushing him fully back against the wall. It means she can shift her own stance, kneel just a little. Curse her earlier self for wearing fucking high heels and creating a greater heights difference to overcome, because it's that much harder to settle against the thigh between her legs, to find any sort of pressure she can use to relieve that growing ache. Not that Aziraphale is helping.

"...bastard," she breathes, low and husky. She leans her head against his shoulder, bends her knees more, tries to rub herself against his thigh. "Yes, I feel it, I fucking feel it, angel--"