The combination of those words going to his head--both heads-- and the way Aziraphale is clinging to him, not to mention the sheer blissful intimacy of it all, means Crowley's not all that far off either for all that he hasn't done anything but rub himself against Aziraphale.

He doesn't even nod, just seizes Aziraphale in another kiss. Less slow now, less deliberate, he's been trying to be patient but the smell of sex and the warmth around his fingers has been driving him mad all along. He slides another finger in, stretches, even as his tongue plunders Aziraphale's mouth, this time without mercy. It's all so good, is the thing, he'd thought he'd imagined how good this would be but nothing he ever dreamt of came close to the reality. He makes a low whimpering noise into Aziraphale's mouth and clutches at his hip with his free hand, encouraging Aziraphale to move against his fingers. "Want you," he manages breathlessly somewhere between increasingly messy kisses. "Fuck, angel, so much--"