Having Aziraphale make all these particular too-familiar noises while his mouth is on Crowley is something of an erotic dream come true. Crowley is trembling underneath him, his breathing erratic and ragged and often interrupted by needy little noises that would utterly embarass him if he weren't so distracted. The way Aziraphale says pleasure you orally earns another one, it has no right to sound so hot when it's put so ridiculously formally.

"Christ on a--" Crowley groans and swallows. "Yes, fuck yes, and yes I know we should leave him out of it too, just don't stop?"