Crowley makes a small whimper of a sound, closing his eyes as Aziraphale brushes angelic lips over the tattoo. The kisses to cheek and forehead felt a little like benediction, but this feels a little closer to blasphemy.

But it's neither. None of these kisses and caresses are either, every gesture belongs just to them. It's all theirs, and that's why Crowley will hold it sacred. He bends his head, leaning in to that touch. "Been wanting you to call me that for a thousand years. Two. More."