Aziraphale leans into the touch, at least when it lingers on his face. As Crowley's hand drifts lower, his wings rustle slightly, still nestled up against Crowley's. That pause has him looking up hopefully, like all the times he's wished for something and is waiting for Crowley to suggest it.

What's different this time is that he immediately says, "Yes!" No coaxing or wheedling necessary. "Oh, I... I think I'd like that very much. Can you reach to prepare me?" The little wiggle he gives is not the least bit innocent. "Or should I...?"