Crowley wraps one of his arms around Aziraphale's waist, splays his hand against his back, fingers digging in to his spine below his wings. Aziraphale's hand covers his on the angel's hip, and he squeezes their fingers together. They're entangled and joined and surrounding each other in so many places. Aziraphale's lips taste his forehead; Crowley sucks another love-bite into his neck. "Perfect," he gasps afterwards, looking up at Aziraphale with breathless adoration. "Perfect, you're--this is--"

His eyelids flutter shut and he groans as Aziraphale takes him in to the root again. "--love you--" he manages, barely knowing what he's saying, barely knowing anything aside from the overwhelming pulse of pleasure he's drowning in. "Aziraphale. Angel. Love you." It's all around him, so much love, he can feel it, he can feel it, inside and out.